TO   THE    FRONT 

A    SEQUEL   TO 

CADET     DAYS 

BY 

GENERAL  CHARLES  KING 

» i 

.  ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

HARPER  6-  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

MCMVIII 


Copyright,  1908,  by  HARPKR  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  March,  1908. 


TO 

THREE  BOYS,  CADETS  YET  TO   BE 
TO  "COPE"  AND  THE  MAJOR 


CONTENTS 

CHAP.  PAGE 

PRELUDE     i 

I.  FROM  THE  GRAY  TO  THE  BLUE     ...  n 

II.  THE  FIRST  CALL 30 

III.  AWAY  TO  THE  WEST 39 

IV.  "I'M  READY  Now" 49 

V.  FIRST  NIGHT  ON  THE  RANGE   ....  61 

VI.  FIRST  AID  TO  THE  WOUNDED  ....  76 

VII.  A  BALKED  ARREST 89 

VIII.  A  RACE  TO  THE  FORT 102 

IX.  BAD  NEWS  FROM  THE  MINES    .     .     .     .  114 

X.  FIRST  SHOTS  OP  THE  SUMMER       .     .     .  128 

XI.  A  NIGHT  ON  GUARD 142 

XII.  THE  MAN  OP  THE  SIEGE 156 

XIII.  AWAY  ON  THE  WARPATH 168 

XIV.  A  SCOUT  FOR  THE  Sioux 1 80 

XV.  FIRST  SIGHT  OF  THE  FOE 198 

XVI.  PROOF  POSITIVE  OF  GUILT 213 

XVII.  THE  WAR-DANCE  AND  THE  CHARGE        .  224 

XVIII.  BATTLE  AND  VICTORY 239 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


THE   OPENING  OF  THE   BATTLE   AT   WOUNDED 

KNEE Frontispiece 

CADETS    AT   DRILL,    WEST    POINT        ....  Facing  p.  1 4 

"  BIG  BEN   WAS  BUSY  WITH   HIS  OIL-CAN  "      .  84 
"  NOT   A   WHIFF  OF  THE  DRAUGHT   COULD    BE 

WASTED  " I O2 

SILVER    SHIELD 128 

"  '  STRAIGHT      THROUGH      THE      HERD,      MEN. 

CH-A-A-A-RGEf" 236 

UNITED  STATES   CAVALRY    IN    WINTER    RIG       .  242 

"  UP    WENT   TWO   LITTLE    PUFFS    OF    EARTH  "  "       248 


TO    THE    FRONT 


TO    THE    FRONT 


PRELUDE  •.   '  ;;,  i    ::-£'• 

IT  was  graduation  day  at  West  Point,  and 
there  had  been  a  remarkable  scene  at  the 
morning  ceremonies.  In  the  presence  of 
the  Board  of  Visitors,  the  full-uniformed 
officers  of  the  academic  and  military  staff, 
the  august  professors  and  their  many  assist 
ants,  scores  of  daintily  dressed  women  and 
dozens  of  sober-garbed  civilians,  the  as 
sembled  Corps  of  Cadets,  in  their  gray  and 
white,  had  risen  as  one  man  and  cheered  to 
the  echo  a  soldierly  young  fellow,  their 
"  first  captain,"  as  he  received  his  diploma 
and  then  turned  to  rejoin  them.  It  was  an 
unusual  incident.  Every  man  preceding 
had  been  applauded,  some  of  them  vehement 
ly.  Every  man  after  him,  and  they  were 


TO    THE    FRONT 

many,  received  his  meed  of  greeting  and 
congratulation,  but  the  portion  accorded 
Cadet  Captain  "Geordie"  Graham,  like  that 
of  Little  Benjamin,  exceeded  all  others,  and 
a  prominent  banker  and  business  man,  visit 
ing  the  Point  for  the  first  time,  was  moved 
to  inquire  why. 

"I  think,"  said  the  officer  addressed,  a 
man  of  his  own  age,  though  his  spare  form 
and  smooth-shaven  cheek  and  chin  made 
him  look  ten  years  younger — "  I  think  it  is 
that  Graham  has  been  tried  in  all  manner  of 
ways  and  has  proved  equal  to  every  occasion. 
They  say  he's  sheer  grit." 

A  keen  and  close  observer  was  the  bank 
er — "a  student  of  men,"  he  called  himself. 
He  had  been  tried  in  many  a  way  and  proved 
equal  to  every  occasion.  He  had  risen  from 
the  ranks  to  the  summit.  He,  too,  they  said 
in  Chicago,  was  "sheer  grit."  Moreover, 
they  did  not  say  he  had  "made  his  pile  out 
of  others'  losings";  but,  like  most  men  who 
have  had  to  work  hard  to  win  it,  until  it  began 
to  come  so  fast  that  it  made  itself,  John 
Bonner  judged  men  very  much  by  their 


TO    THE    FRONT 

power  to  earn  money.  Money  was  his 
standard,  his  measure  of  success. 

And  this,  perhaps,  was  why  John  Bonner 
could  never  understand  his  brother-in-law, 
the  colonel,  a  most  distinguished  soldier,  a 
modest  and  most  enviable  man. 

Twenty-five  years  had  Bonner  known  that 
now  gray -haired,  gray  -  mustached  veteran. 
Twenty-five  years  had  he  liked  him,  admired 
him,  and  much  of  late  had  he  sought  to 
know  him,  but  Hazzard  was  a  man  he  could 
not  fathom. 

"Fifteen  years  ago,"  said  he  to  a  fellow- 
magnate,  "  I  told  that  man  if  he'd  quit 
soldiering,  and  bring  Carrie  and  the  children 
to  Chicago,  I'd  guarantee  him  an  income  ten 
times  the  regular  pay  he's  getting;  and  he 
smiled,  thanked  me,  and  said  he  was  quite 
content — content,  sir,  on  two  thousand  a  year, 
and  so,  too,  was  Sis.  Now,  think  of  that!" 

And  Bonner  was  bubbling  over  with  the 
same  idea  to-day,  yet  beginning  to  see  light. 
Two  prominent  senators,  men  of  world- wide 
renown,  held  Hazzard  long  in  close  con 
ference,  and  were  merely  civil  to  him,  the 
3 


TO    THE    FRONT 

magnate,  who,  as  he  said,  ''could  buy  the 
three  of  'em  three  times  over."  A  general 
whose  name  was  but  second  to  that  of 
Grant  seized  his  brother-in-law  by  both 
hands,  and  seemed  delighted  to  greet  him, 
yet  had  barely  a  word  for  "his  millions," 
him  to  whom  the  Board  of  Trade  bowed 
humbly  at  home.  A  great  war  secretary, 
whom  they  had  recently  dined  at  the  Grand 
Pacific  and  whose  dictum  as  to  the  purchase 
of  supplies  meant  much  to  Chicago,  but 
vaguely  remembered  and  absently  greeted 
the  man  of  wealth,  yet  beamed  with  pleasure 
at  sight  of  his  small- salaried  soldier  com 
panion.  The  secretary  drew  Hazzard  off  to 
one  side,  in  fact,  and  left  the  man  of  stocks 
and  the  stock-yards  standing. 

That  evening,  after  the  simple  home  dinner, 
with  Carrie  and  the  young  people  and  the 
colonel  smiling  about  the  board,  Bonner's 
vexation  of  spirit  found  vent.  Duties  drew 
the  soldier  away,  and  the  banker  was  left 
with  his  sister. 

"What  is  your  pay  now,  Carrie?"  he 
abruptly  asked. 

4 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"A  row  of  threes,  John — $333.33  a  month," 
was  the  amused  answer. 

"And  Hazzard's  been  through  two  wars, 
Heaven  knows  how  many  campaigns  and 
vicissitudes,  and  been  serving  the  United 
States,  night  and  day,  some  thirty  years, 
and  that's  all  he  has  to  show  for  it,  every 
cent  of  which  has  to  go  for  living  expenses — 
rearing,  feeding,  clothing,  and  educating  these 
youngsters." 

"Pretty  nearly.  We've  a  little  laid  by 
for  Jack's  college,  and  the  President  gives 
Lou  his  cadetship,  you  know,  but " — and 
here  the  blithe-faced  little  woman  looked 
archly  at  "Uncle  John,"  though  her  look 
was  one  that  said,  "I  mean  every  word  of 
this  "— "  we  don't  think  that's  all  there  is  to 
it,  by  any  manner  of  means.  Think  of  his 
war  record !  Isn't  that  a  proud  thing  to  leave 
to  our  boys?  See  how  he  is  regarded  by 
the  best  men  in  our  country,  from  the  Presi 
dent  down !  He  is  not  yet  an  old  man,  but 
he  has  '  all  that  should  accompany  old  age 
— love,  honor,  obedience,  troops  of  friends ' 
—  and,  honestly,  John,  with  health  and 
5 


TO    THE    FRONT 

competence  and   us,  what   more   should  he 
want?" 

"Well,"  said  Bonner,  tenaciously,  "I  could 
have  put  him  where  he  would  have  been 
worth  three  hundred  thousand  by  this  time." 

"And  it  wouldn't  have  tempted  him;  and 
I'd  rather  see  him  as  he  is." 

"Well,  I'm  blessed  if  I  can  understand  it," 
said  Bonner.  Then  callers  put  a  stop  to  the 
chat.  Then  the  colonel  himself  came  home 
to  his  cosey  quarters,  and  silence  had  settled 
down  over  the  beautiful  plain.  The  lights 
were  dimmed  in  the  barracks;  the  sentries 
paced  their  measured  rounds;  from  the 
verandas  of  the  hotel  came  the  ripple  of 
murmured  words  and  soft  laughter,  and  a 
tinkle  of  banjo  and  guitar.  At  the  gate  the 
colonel  exchanged  good-night  greetings  with 
a  happy-faced,  motherly  looking  woman 
whom  Bonner  had  noticed  overwhelmed  with 
pride  and  emotion  during  the  ceremonies 
in  the  morning.  He  did  not  at  first  recognize 
the  tall,  erect  young  fellow  on  whose  arm  she 
proudly  leaned  as  she  walked  home  through 
the  shifting  moonlight. 
6 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"That  was  young  Graham,  in  whom  you 
were  so  interested  this  morning,"  said  Haz- 
zard,  briefly. 

"Was  it?  Oh,  I  thought  he'd  gone  with 
the  graduates." 

"Only  down  to  the  city  to  say  good-bye. 
He  came  back  to  his  mother  by  late  train. 
I  fancy  she's  more  to  him  than  a  lot  of  fun 
with  the  boys." 

"See  here,  Hazzard,"  observed  Bonner, 
solemnly,  "  I've  been  looking  into  things 
here  nigh  onto  a  week.  It's  fine!  It's  all 
right  for  a  soldier  school !  But,  now  take  that 
young  chap  for  a  sample.  What  on  earth 
does  he  know  outside  of  drill  and  mathe 
matics  and  what  you  call  discipline  ?  What 
could  he  do  in  case  we  cut  off  all  this — this 
foolishness  —  and  came  down  to  business? 
I'd  be  willing  to  bet  a  sweet  sum  that,  take 
him  out  of  the  army,  turn  him  loose  in  the 
streets,  and  he'd  starve,  by  gad!  before  he 
could  ever  earn  enough  to  pay  for  a  quick 
lunch." 

"  I  think  you'd  lose,"  was  the  quiet  answer. 

"  Well,  I'd  just  like  to  try  it.  Pit  him  and 
7 


TO    THE    FRONT 

his  kind  against  our  keen-witted,  sharp, 
aggressive  young  business  men — men  with 
frwsiness  heads,  frwsiness  experience" — Bon- 
ner's  emphasis  on  the  first  syllable  was  re 
inforced  by  a  bang  of  the  fist  on  the  arm  of 
his  chair — "and,  and,  by  gad!  they'd  be 
skinned  alive — skinned  out  of  their  last  cent, 
sir." 

"That,"  said  the  colonel,  dryly,  "is  not 
improbable.  They  are  trained  as  soldiers, 
not  as  sharpers.  But,  all  the  same,  in  spite, 
if  you  please,  of  their  soldier  training,  I  fancy 
most  of  these  lads  that  quit  us  to-day,  if 
brought  face  to  face  with  sudden  emergency, 
responsibility,  something  calling  for  courage, 
coolness,  judgment — above  all,  for  action — 
would  hold  their  own,  and  I'd  back  them 
even  in  competition  with  your  aggressive 
young  friends  in  business  life." 

"Why,  they're  taught  to  deal  only  with 
soldiers — with  machines — not  men,"  argued 
Bonner. 

"Well,  such  as  they  have  handled  men  not 
soldiers  more  than  once,  in  your   own  city, 
Bonner,  and  to  your  vast  benefit.     They'll 
8 


TO    THE    FRONT 

come  to  it  again  some  day.  As  for  that 
young  man,  I  picked  him  a  year  ago  from 
his  whole  class  for  the  place  that  calls  for 
the  most  judgment,  tact,  quiet  force,  capac 
ity  to  command — the  '  first  captaincy  '—and 
never  did  I  see  it  better  filled." 

"Oh,  granted  as  to  that!  But  strip  off 
the  uniform,  sword,  and  authority;  set  him 
among  the  men  we  have  to  deal  with — what 
could  he  do  with  a  railway  strike?  How 
could  he  handle  maddened  mill  operatives, 
laborers,  switchmen,  miners  ?  Think  of  that, 
Hazzard!  That  isn't  fighting  Indians,  with 
a  regiment  at  your  back.  You  mark  what 
I  say!" 

"  Well,  mobs,  miners,  or  Indians,  our  young 
officers  have  had  to  meet  all  kinds  at  times," 
said  the  colonel;  "and  if  ever  Graham  is  up 
against  them,  Bonner,  I'm  thinking  you'll 
hear  of  it." 

And,  oddly  enough,  before  he  was  one 
month  older,  sitting  in  his  office  in  Chicago, 
Bonner  was  hearing  it  with  a  vengeance. 
There  was  the  mischief  to  pay  in  at  least  one 
of  his  mines.  Oddly  enough,  before  he  was 
9 


TO    THE    FRONT 

one  year  older,  George  Montrose  Graham, 
graduated  cadet,  was  "up  against  them,"  all 
three — mobs,  miners,  and  Indians.  How  he 
met  them  and  how  he  merited  the  colonel's 
confidence  let  them  judge  who  read. 


CHAPTER  I 

FROM  THE  GRAY  TO  THE  BLUE 

IT  was  just  after  sunset  of  one  of  the 
longest  days  of  the  loveliest  of  our  sum 
mer  months.  The  roar  of  the  evening  gun 
had  gone  re-echoing  through  the  Highlands 
of  the  Hudson.  The  great  garrison  flag 
was  still  slowly  fluttering  earthward,  veiled 
partially  from  the  view  of  the  throng  of 
spectators  by  the  snowy  cloud  of  sulphur 
smoke  drifting  lazily  away  upon  the  wing 
of  the  breeze.  Afar  over  beyond  the  barren 
level  of  the  cavalry  plain  the  gilded  hands  of 
the  tower-clock  on  "  the  old  Academic  "  were 
blended  into  one  in  proclaiming  to  all  whom 
it  might  concern  that  it  was  five  minutes 
past  the  half -hour  'twixt  seven  and  eight, 
and  there  were  girls  in  every  group,  and 
many  a  young  fellow  in  the  rigid  line  of  gray 
and  white  before  them,  resentful  of  the  fact 
ii 


TO    THE    FRONT 

that  dress  parade  was  wofully  late  and 
long,  with  tattoo  and  taps  only  two  hours  or 
so  away.  The  season  for  the  regular  sum 
mer  "hops"  had  not  yet  begun,  for  this  was 
away  back  in  the  eighties,  when  many  anoth 
er  old  West  Point  fashion  still  prevailed ;  but 
there  was  to  be  an  informal  dance  in  the 
dining-room  of  the  hotel,  and  it  couldn't  come 
off  until  after  supper,  and  supper  had  to  be 
served  to  some  people  who  were  "pokey" 
enough  to  care  to  come  by  late  boat,  or 
later  train,  and  were  more  eager  to  see  the 
cadets  on  parade  than  to  seek  Mine  Host 
Craney's  once  bountiful  table. 

What  made  it  more  exasperating  was  that 
rumors  were  afloat  to  the  effect  that  the 
adjutant  had  long  and  important  orders  to 
publish,  and  this  would  still  further  prolong 
the  parade.  Cadet  Private  Frazier,  First 
Class,  one  of  the  best  dancers  in  the  battalion, 
was  heard  to  mutter  to  his  next-door  neigh 
bor  in  the  front  rank  of  the  color  company: 
"  It  '11  be  nine  o'clock  before  we  get  things 
going  at  the  hotel,  and  we've  got  to  quit  at 
nine-thirty.  Confound  the  orders!"  And 

12 


TO    THE    FRONT 

yet,  peering  from  under  the  visor  of  his 
shako,  Mr.  Frazier  could  see  without  dis 
turbing  the  requisite  pose  of  his  head,  "up 
and  straight  to  the  front,  chin  drawn  in," 
that  over  near  the  south  end  of  the  row  of 
gayly  attired  visitors,  seated  or  standing  at 
the  edge  of  the  camp  parade-ground,  there 
was  one  group,  at  least,  to  whom,  as  Fra 
zier  knew,  the  orders  meant  much  more  than 
the  dance.  There,  switching  the  short  grass 
with  his  stocky  cane,  stood  their  grim  senior 
surgeon,  Doctor,  or  Major,  Graham.  There, 
close  beside  him  and  leaning  on  the  arm  of 
a  slender  but  athletic,  sun-tanned  young  fel 
low  in  trim  civilian  dress,  stood  the  doc 
tor's  devoted  wife.  With  them  was  a  curly- 
headed  youth,  perhaps  seventeen  years  of 
age,  restless,  eager,  and  impatient  for  the 
promised  news.  Making  his  way  eagerly 
but  gently  through  the  dense  throng  of  on 
lookers,  a  bronze-faced,  keen-eyed,  powerful 
ly  built  officer  in  the  uniform  of  the  cavalry 
came  up  at  the  moment  and  joined  them. 
"Have  you  heard  anything  yet?"  he  mur 
mured  to  Mrs.  Graham,  whose  kind  and 
13 


TO    THE    FRONT 

gentle  eyes  seemed  to  light  at  sound  of  his 
voice. 

"Not  yet,"  she  answered,  with  a  shake  of 
the  head.  "  All  we  learned  just  a  few  minutes 
ago  was  that  the  order  was  here  and  would 
be  published  on  parade.  The  commandant 
returned  only  just  in  time." 

"And  there's  been  no  telegram — no  word 
from  outside?" 

"Not  a  thing,  Mr.  McCrea.  It  just  so 
happened." 

"Well,  if  that  isn't  odd!  To  begin  with, 
it's  most  unusual  to  get  out  the  order  so 
early.  They  must  be  in  a  hurry  to  assign 
the  graduates  this  year.  Pops,  old  boy, 
if  you  don't  get  our  regiment,  I'll  say  the 
secretary  of  war  is  deaf  to  the  wishes  of 
every  officer  and  most  of  the  men.  We  told 
him  when  he  came  out  to  look  over  Fort 
Reynolds,  and  incidentally  look  into  the 
mines — but  that  was  last  year —  Oh,  bother, 
Williams,"  he  suddenly  broke  off,  "what  do 
you  want  to  lose  precious  time  for,  putting 
'em  through  the  manual?" 

This  sudden  outbreak  was  levelled  at  the 
14 


TO    THE    FRONT 

unconscious  officer  commanding  the  parade 
(the  "officer  in  charge,"  as  he  was  termed), 
Mr.  Williams  having  replied,  "Take  your 
post,  sir,"  to  the  adjutant's  stately  salute  in 
presenting  the  statuesque  line.  Whereupon 
the  adjutant  "recovered"  sword,  strode 
briskly  up,  passed  beyond  the  plumed  com 
mander,  and  took  his  station  to  his  left  and 
rear.  With  much  deliberation  of  manner, 
Mr.  Williams  drew  sabre  and  easily  gave  the 
various  orders  for  the  showy  manual  of  arms, 
the  white-gloved  hands  moving  like  clock 
work  in  response  to  his  command  until,  with 
simultaneous  thud,  the  battalion  resumed 
the  "order,"  certain  spectators  with  dif 
ficulty  repressing  the  impulse  to  applaud. 

Then  back  to  the  centre  stalked  the  young 
adjutant,  Mrs.  Graham  unconsciously  draw 
ing  unflattering  comparison  between  the 
present  incumbent,  soldierly  though  he 
seemed,  and  her  own  boy's  associate  and 
friend,  Claude  Benton,  adjutant  of  the  class 
graduated  barely  a  fortnight  earlier,  "her 
own  boy,"  perhaps  the  most  honored  among 
them.  She  was  clinging  to  his  arm  now, 


TO    THE    FRONT 

her  pride  and  joy  through  all  his  years  of 
sturdy  boyhood  and  manly  youth.  She 
knew  well  that  the  hope  and  longing  of  his 
heart  was  to  be  assigned  to  the  cavalry 
regiment  of  which  Lieutenant  McCrea  was 
quartermaster,  the  regiment  once  stationed 
at  old  Fort  Reynolds,  in  the  Rockies,  when 
Dr.  Graham  was  there  as  post  surgeon  and 
Geordie  was  preparing  for  West  Point. 
Indeed,  Mr.  McCrea  had  "coached"  her  son 
in  mathematics,  and  had  been  most  helpful 
in  securing  the  appointment.  And  now 
here  was  the  quartermaster  on  leave  of 
absence,  the  first  he  had  had  in  years, 
spending  several  weeks  of  his  three  months' 
rest  at  the  scene  of  his  own  soldier  school 
days. 

But  it  was  "Bud,"  her  younger  son,  who 
had  come  rushing  down  to  the  surgeon's 
quarters  only  a  few  minutes  before  parade 
with  the  all-important  news.  "Mither!  — 
Geordie!"  he  cried,  "Captain  Cross  says  the 
assignment  order's  come  and  will  be  pub 
lished  at  parade.  Hurry  up!" 

Dr.  Graham  could  hardly  believe  it.     As 
16 


TO    THE    FRONT 

McCrea  said,  the  War  Department  seldom 
issued  the  order  before  mid- July.  "Mac" 
even  hoped  to  be  in  Washington  in  time  to 
say  a  word  to  the  adjutant  -  general  in 
Geordie's  behalf.  It  was  known  that  many 
would  be  assigned  to  the  artillery,  to  which 
Cadet  Graham  had  been  recommended  by 
the  Academic  Board.  But  all  his  boyhood 
had  been  spent  on  the  frontier;  his  earliest 
recollections  were  of  the  adobe  barracks  and 
sun-dried,  sun-cracked,  sun-scorched  parade  of 
old  Camp  Sandy  in  Arizona.  He  had  learn 
ed  to  ride  an  Indian  pony  in  Wyoming  before 
he  was  eight;  he  had  learned  to  shoot  in 
Montana  before  he  was  twelve;  and  he  had 
ridden,  hunted,  fished,  and  shot  all  over  the 
wide  West  before  the  happy  days  that  sent 
him  to  the  great  cadet  school  of  the  nation. 
And  now  that  he  was  graduated,  with  all  his 
heart  and  hope  and  ambition  he  prayed  that 
he  might  be  commissioned  in  a  cavalry  reg 
iment,  if  possible  in  McCrea's.  Give  him 
that,  he  said,  and  he  would  ask  no  favor 
from  any  man. 

How  his  heart  was  beating  as  he  watched 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  adjutant,  whom  he  himself  had  schooled 
and  drilled  and  almost  made,  for  Graham 
had  been  famous  in  his  cadet  days  as  a  most 
successful  squad  instructor,  a  model  first 
sergeant,  and  a  great  "first  captain."  How 
odd  it  seemed  that  he,  a  graduate,  and  that 
all  these  people,  officers,  and  children,  should 
now  be  hanging  on  the  words  that  might 
fall  from  the  younger  soldier's  lips!  A 
telegram  from  Washington  had  told  a 
veteran  general  visiting  at  the  Point  that  his 
son  had  been  assigned  to  the  artillery,  that 
the  order  would  doubtless  be  published  that 
evening.  But  it  so  happened  that  not  until 
just  before  parade  did  the  commandant 
return  from  a  long  ride,  and  so  had  no  time 
to  read  it  through.  He  had  simply  handed 
it,  with  others,  to  the  silent  young  soldier, 
who  had  stood  in  full  uniform  full  five  minutes 
awaiting  his  coming.  "  Better  order  '  parade 
rest'  part  of  time.  It's  a  long  read,"  he 
briefly  said,  and,  stowing  the  orders  under 
his  sash,  the  adjutant  had  saluted,  faced 
about,  and  hastened  away. 
And  now  that  young  official  has  received 
18 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  reports  of  the  first  sergeants  and  sent 
them,  high -headed,  martial,  and  precise, 
back  to  their  stations  in  the  line.  And  now 
again  he  has  faced  the  commanding  officer, 
saluted,  and  announced,  "All  are  present, 
sir."  And  now  that  deliberate  functionary 
has  at  last  said,  "Publish  the  orders,  sir." 
And  silence  seems  to  fall,  even  upon  the 
chatting  groups  of  girls,  as,  with  brief 
"  'Tentio-o-o-on  to  Orders,"  the  adjutant 
drops  the  point  of  his  sword,  letting  it  dangle 
from  the  gold  swordknot  on  his  wrist,  and 
in  another  moment  the  clear  young  voice  is 
ringing  over  the  attent  and  martial  audience. 
"War  Department,  Washington,  D.  C., 
June  25,  189 — ,"  he  begins,  and  then  briskly 
rattles  away  at  the  terse  official  paragraphs: 
"The  following  assignment  of  graduates  of 
the  United  States  Military  Academy  are 
hereby  announced  to  take  effect  from  June 
1 4th."  It  begins  with  that  highly  scientific 
and  enviable  body,  the  Corps  of  Engineers, 
and  Mr.  George  Graham,  up  to  this  moment 
still  officially  known  as  cadet,  touches  his 
mother's  arm  at  sound  of  the  third  name  on 
19 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  list  —  that  of  Connell,  his  chum,  his 
chosen  comrade,  his  much -loved  classmate 
through  the  long  four  years.  "Dear  old 
Con,"  he  murmurs  into  her  ears.  "I'll 
telegraph  my  congratulations  to  him,  what 
ever  comes  to  me." 

There  are  eight  in  all  assigned  to  the 
engineers,  and  then  come  the  names  of 
those  gazetted  to  the  artillery — five  famous 
regiments,  too,  and  Graham  notes  with  joy 
that  Beard,  Conway,  Foster,  and  Lawrence, 
all  of  whom  were  lower  in  general  standing 
than  himself,  get  their  longed-for  billet  with 
the  "red  legs,"  and  his  name  is  not  men 
tioned.  That  means  he  has  not  been  assign 
ed  where  he  preferred  not  to  go.  But  would 
the  war  secretary  assign  him  where  he  long 
ed  to  be?  Yes,  here  it  comes,  first  on  the 
cavalry  list,  and  his  heart  beats  for  joy. 

"F th  Regiment  of  Cavalry. 

"No.  15,  Cadet  George  Montrose  Graham  to  be 
Second  Lieutenant,  Troop  '  E,'  vice  Fenton,  pro 
moted." 

And  though  her  eyes  are  brimming  and 
her  lips  will  quiver,  Mrs.  Graham  clasps  both 

20 


TO    THE    FRONT 

her  boy's  hands  in  her  own  in  speechless 
sympathy.  It  cannot  all  be  joy,  for  this 
means  miles  and  miles  of  separation  that 
must  come  all  too  soon.  Geordie  can  scarce 
believe  his  ears.  Oh,  it  is  too  good!  Not 
only  the  — th,  but  "E"  Troop,  Captain 
Lane's  troop,  the  troop  of  which  Feeny  was 
first  sergeant,  the  troop  in  which  veteran 
Sergeant  Nolan,  two  years  ago  at  old  Fort 
Reynolds,  had  said  he  and  the  men  so  hoped 
to  see  the  day  when  Mr.  Geordie  might  come 
back  to  them  to  be  their  lieutenant. 

And  now  McCrea  was  grasping  and  wringing 
his  hand,  with  a  "  Welcome  to  the  old  regi 
ment,  Geordie,"  and  blue -eyed  "Bud"  was 
dancing  rapturously  about  until  the  doctor 
sternly  bade  him  cease.  "Is  that  the  way 
you  think  they  behave  at  Columbia,  sir?" 
having  never  seen  the  behavior  of  Columbiads, 
or  other  collegians,  at  a  ball  match  or  boat- 
race  or  any  public  occasion  of  undergraduate 
rejoicing.  Even  among  the  spectators  were 
many  who  lost  interest  for  the  moment  in 
what  the  adjutant  was  reading,  and  watched, 
with  kindling  eyes,  the  unexpected  little 

21 


TO    THE    FRONT 

scene.  But  when  Colonel  Hazzard  himself, 
the  soldierly  commandant,  with  his  silver- 
gray  mustache  and  hair,  came  striding 
through  the  crowd  and  held  forth  his  hand 
to  the  young  soldier,  who  instantly  and 
instinctively  faced  him  at  attention,  every 
body  within  hearing  noted  the  cordiality 
in  his  hearty  tones  as  he  shook  Geordie's 
hand:  "Mr.  Graham,  I'm  more  than  glad 
you  got  the  regiment  of  your  choice,  and 
you're  going  to  one  of  the  best  captains  in 
the  army.  I  was  on  duty  in  tactics  when 
Lane  was  in  the  Corps.  Well,  Mrs.  Graham, 
we  think  we  are  sending  him  the  making  of 
one  of  the  best  lieutenants,"  and  with  that 
the  colonel  bowed  as  he  took  the  hand  of 
Geordie's  mother.  "Good  sons  make  good 
soldiers  all  the  world  over,  Mrs.  Graham, 
and  we'll  expect  great  things  of  yours,"  he 
added,  then  grasped  the  doctor's  out-stretch 
ed  hand  and  gave  way  to  others  who  came 
crowding  forward,  among  them  a  gentle, 
motherly  woman  in  half  -  mourning,  whose 
eyes  were  moist  as  she  exchanged  greeting 
with  Mrs.  Graham. 

22 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"Benny  will  be  here  the  moment  they 
break  ranks,"  she  said.  "I  know  he,  too, 
will  want  to  congratulate  George." 

And  so  there  was  quite  a  little  gathering, 
and  what  the  papers  call  an  "  ovation,"  about 
the  young  graduate,  who  was  blushing  not 
a  little  through  his  healthy  tan.  He  was 
quite  unable  to  hear  where  his  classmates 
had  been  distributed  in  the  other  regiments 
of  cavalry  and  infantry,  and  he  was  anx 
ious  to  know,  but  even  when  the  line  of 
cadet  officers  came  marching  to  the  front 
and  stood  at  salute  before  the  battalion 
commander,  and  then  broke  ranks,  and  as 
many  as  a  dozen  made  a  rush  at  their 
former  first  captain,  eager  to  take  him  by  the 
hand  and  say  a  word  of  congratulation  before 
they  went  bounding  away  to  doff  dress  hats, 
plumes,  and  sashes  —  even  then  Graham 
could  not  see  the  order,  for  Colonel  Hazzard 
called  for  it  to  show  to  a  bevy  of  bright-eyed 
girls,  who  knew  the  graduating  class,  now 
scattered  all  over  the  United  States,  knew 
almost  every  one  of  them  better  than  they 
did  this,  their  foremost  cadet  officer,  for 

3  23 


TO    THE    FRONT 

George  Graham,  though  he  could  dance,  had 
seemed  to  care  little  for  hops  and  less  for 
girls.  His  few  leisure  hours  of  the  last  year 
at  the  Point  he  had  spent  at  the  side  of  his 
mother. 

But  at  last,  leaving  Mrs.  Frazier  and 
Benny  at  camp,  the  Grahams  were  walking 
slowly  homeward  in  the  wake  of  the  brave 
young  battalion,  marching  away  with  its 
quick,  elastic  stride  to  the  spirited  music  of 
the  fifes  and  drums.  Lieutenant  McCrea 
was  still  with  them,  while  Lieutenant  Wood, 
another  family  friend,  had  taken  to  the 
telegraph  office  Geordie's  pencilled  words 
of  congratulation  to  his  chum  Connell,  now 
lieutenant  of  engineers.  Mrs.  Graham  lean 
ed  heavily  on  the  arm  of  her  sturdy  son, 
thinking  of  all  the  joy  that  had  been  hers, 
after  the  years  of  separation.  It  had  been 
such  a  welcome,  welcome  order  that  took 
Major  Graham  to  duty  at  West  Point  the 
last  lap  of  their  boy's  cadet  life.  Every 
Saturday  evening  he  had  spent  "at  home" 
in  the  surgeon's  quarters,  and  many  a  Sun 
day  afternoon.  How  she  had  looked  forward 
24 


TO    THE    FRONT 

from  week  end  to  week  end!  How  swiftly 
had  the  weeks  slipped  by!  How  would  she 
miss  him  in  the  years  to  come!  How  lonely 
would  be  the  Saturdays  and  Sundays  without 
her  boys,  for  "  Buddy  "  too,  was  to  leave  the 
home  nest.  He  had  passed  for  Columbia  and 
was  to  have  some  terms  at  what  the  doctor 
loved  to  call  "the  humanities"  before  tak 
ing  up  the  study  of  medicine.  Her  heart 
had  been  full  of  rejoicing  and  thanksgiving 
when  graduation  came,  barely  a  fortnight 
agone — yet  when,  for  the  last  time  in  cadet 
uniform  Geordie  stood  before  her,  so  soldier 
ly,  so  manly,  so  honored  by  his  comrades  in 
the  Corps,  and  she  followed  him  with  brim 
ming  eyes  when,  leaving  his  diploma  in  her 
hand,  he  turned  away  to  his  room,  in  the 
tower  of  the  old  first  division,  to  lay  aside 
forever  the  plume  and  sash,  the  sword  and 
chevrons  of  the  first  captaincy,  to  shed  the 
academy  uniform  for  good  and  all,  she  knew 
she  wished  the  whole  year  could  be  lived 
over  again;  she  knew  she  would  rather  the 
time  were  still  far  distant  when  her  son 
should  "change  the  gray  for  the  blue." 
25 


TO    THE    FRONT 

But  now,  now,  every  hour  of  every  day 
for  three  glorious  and  beautiful  months,  she 
was  to  have  him  by  her  side.  She  need  not, 
she  would  not,  think  of  the  separation  to 
come  late  in  September,  when  he  must  join 
his  regiment  and  be  her  boy  no  more.  At 
least  she  would  try  not  to  think,  but  here 
was  this  cold,  stern,  business-like  order  to 
remind  her  that  she  had  given  her  first-born 
to  the  service  of  his  country — that  now  he 
belonged  to  the  general  government  and  no 
longer  to  her.  All  too  soon  —  oh,  many 
weeks  too  soon — had  the  mandate  appeared, 
for  it  would  haunt  her  day  and  night  until 
the  hour  for  parting  came.  Ah,  thank  God, 
that  at  least  would  not  be  for  weeks!  Even 
Geordie  now  had  become  silent  and  serious. 
He  was  listening  to  McCrea's  eager  words  to 
Dr.  Graham,  all  about  the  regiment  and  Fort 
Reynolds,  and  how  he  wished  they  were 
back  there  again,  the  finest  station  the  — th 
had  ever  had,  he  declared,  and  "  so  near  the 
mines!" 

"Just  think,  Geordie,"  he  cried,  "if  we 
were  all  at  Reynolds  we  could  run  up  the 
26 


TO    THE    FRONT 

range  to  the  Silver  Shield  any  day,  and  watch 
them  dragging  out  gold." 

"You  haven't  lost  faith  in  the  Shield, 
then?"  asked  Mrs.  Graham,  smilingly.  She 
thought  and  cared  so  little  herself.  She 
knew  that  several  officers  at  Reynolds,  her 
husband  and  McCrea  among  them,  had  in 
vested  their  scant  savings  in  that  most 
promising  venture.  She  knew  that  McCrea 
had  vowed  it  would  make  them  all  rich  if  not 
famous  one  of  these  days,  and  that  her 
methodical,  cautious  "canny  Scot"  of  a 
husband  had  figured,  pondered,  and  con 
sulted  long  before  he,  too,  had  become  con 
vinced.  She  knew  their  holdings  had  been 
quoted  far  above  what  was  paid  for  them, 
but  what  of  all  that  ?  She  had  her  boys,  her 
husband,  her  army  home,  her  health,  and 
high  content.  What  was  wealth  to  her? 

"  I  own  I  was  thinking  more  of  the  hunting 
and  fishing,  the  scenery,  and  the  splendid 
range,"  said  Geordie,  "but  no  matter  where 
'  E  '  Troop  goes,  I  want  to  be  with  it." 

"  If  the  Shield  pans  out  according  to 
promise,"  said  McCrea,  with  a  laugh,  "the 
27 


TO    THE    FRONT 

regiment  won't  see  me  for  many  a  day  after 
I  realize.  I'm  going  in  for  a  year's  leave — • 
and  Europe." 

They  had  reached  the  front  of  Grant  Hall 
by  this  time  and  were  strolling  slowly  along, 
their  voices  hushed  for  the  moment  by  the 
cheery  hum  of  boyish  talk  and  the  clatter 
of  mess  furniture,  as  the  Corps  sat  at  their 
late  supper.  Then  several  officers,  gathered 
about  the  steps  of  the  club  rooms  in  the 
south  end,  lifted  their  caps  to  Mrs.  Graham 
and  smiled  greeting  to  the  party. 

"Come  back,  Geordie!"  was  the  cheery 
hail.  "We  want  to  wet  that  assignment  in 
cavalry  fashion."  But  Graham  laughed  and 
shook  his  head. 

"Can't  break  away  just  now,"  said  he. 
"I'll  look  in  later."  . 

"What  I  can't  understand,"  said  McCrea, 
"is  that  we  got  no  word.  With  Freeman 
and  Blake  both  on  duty  in  Washington,  one 
would  think  they'd  have  wired  if  they  knew." 

"It's  coming  now,"  said  the  doctor,  point 
ing  to  the  telegraph   orderly  turning   away 
from  the  steps  of  his  quarters  and  coming 
28 


TO    THE    FRONT 

swiftly  toward  them,  brown  envelope  in 
hand.  Just  in  front  of  the  hospital  gateway 
he  met  the  party,  saluted,  and  tendered  the 
uppermost  of  two  or  three  despatches  to  the 
doctor. 

"Freeman,  I'm  betting,"  said  McCrea, 
as  the  doctor  tore  it  open  and  read.  They 
walked  on  slowly,  expectant,  but  he  did  not 
speak.  Then  Mrs.  Graham  turned,  gave  one 
look,  dropped  Geor die's  arm  and  clasped 
that  of  her  husband.  The  rugged,  weather- 
beaten  face  had  grown  suddenly  gray. 

"George!  husband!"  she  cried.  "What's 
gone  wrong?" 

For  answer  he  simply  handed  her  the 
paper. 

"  Designate  proxy;  meeting  Monday.  Fear  ev 
erything  lost.  Come  if  possible." 

"Mac,"  said  the  old  doctor,  solemnly, 
"it's  Silver  Shield  that's  melted  away. 
Everything  we  had  in  the  world." 


CHAPTER  II 

THE     FIRST     CALL 

FORT  REYNOLDS,  as  has  been  told  in 
the  earlier  story  of  George  Graham's 
cadet  days,  lay  among  the  eastward  foot 
hills  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  with  a  bustling 
little  frontier  city  only  six  miles  away  down 
the  winding  valley  of  what  was,  in  the  early 
eighties,  a  clear,  cold,  and  beautiful  moun 
tain  stream  that  shone  in  the  sun  like  molten 
silver. 

Silver  Run  it  was  called  when  Uncle  Sam 
built  the  picturesque  frontier  fort  of  hewn 
logs  and  unseasoned  pine  soon  after  the 
Civil  War.  Silver  Run,  cold,  pure,  and 
glistening,  it  remained  when  Fort  Reynolds 
became  an  important  military  post.  Then 
the  — th  Cavalry  took  station  at  Reynolds, 
and  there  Geordie  Graham  found  them  when, 
with  his  father  and  mother  and  "Bud,"  he 
30 


TO    THE    FRONT 

had  come  from  cold  Montana  to  the  finest 
station  they  yet  had  known,  and  to  the 
firmest  friends,  many  of  whom  they  had  met 
before,  when  Geordie,  as  a  little  boy,  was 
1  'Corporal  Pops"  to  every  man  at  old  Camp 
Sandy. 

But  Silver  Run,  though  it  ran  more  silver 
than  it  ever  knew  before,  was  beautiful  no 
longer.  Mines  of  remarkable  value,  mines  of 
gold  and  silver,  had  been  discovered  twenty 
and  thirty  miles  back  in  the  mountains. 
Mining  towns  had  sprung  up  along  the  steep 
and  rocky  banks.  Mining  methods  had 
turned  a  limpid  stream  into  a  turbid  torrent. 
Two  railways  had  run  their  lines,  hewing, 
blasting,  boring,  and  tunnelling  up  the  narrow 
valley,  first  to  reach  the  mines  and  finally 
to  merge  in  a  "cut-off"  to  the  great  Trans 
continental,  so  that  now  huge  trains  of 
Pullmans  went  straining  slowly  up-grade 
past  the  site  of  old  Fort  Reynolds,  or  came 
coasting  down  with  smoking  tires  and  fire- 
spitting  brake -shoes,  and  between  the  loss 
of  the  water  for  his  horses,  and  the  hemming 
in  of  his  rifle-ranges  by  rail  right  of  way, 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Uncle  Sam  declared  Fort  Reynolds  no  longer 
tenable  for  cavalry.  The  regiment  had  been 
sent  elsewhere,  and  only  a  quartermaster- 
sergeant  and  a  squad  of  men  remained. 

Yet  Reynolds  stood  in  the  midst  of  thriv 
ing  industries  and  swarming  men.  The 
First  National  Bank  in  town  had  now  a 
marble  front  and  a  thousand  depositors. 
The  town  was  now  a  city  and  a  railway  centre, 
and  the  backbone  of  its  business  was  no 
longer  cattle,  but  mines  and  mining,  full  of 
fabulous  wealth  for  those  "on  the  inside," 
but  of  dark  and  devious  measures  for  those 
"on  the  outside"  or  away,  and  of  these  were 
half  a  dozen  army  officers  who  had  been 
dazzled  by  the  easily  acquired  dollars  of  the 
earliest  arrivals,  and  of  these  officers  was  one 
of  the  last  men  his  friends  thought  possible 
to  mislead — shrewd,  calculating,  cautious, 
canny  old  "Sawny"  Graham,  post  surgeon 
at  Fort  Reynolds  in  the  late  eighties. 

Yet  prospectors  and  explorers  ten  years 

earlier  had  declared  gold  would  be  found  up 

the  banks  of  Silver  Run.     In  the  glorious 

park  country  back  of  Squaw  Canon,  where 

32 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Geordie  and  Bud  had  camped  and  fished  and 
hunted  as  boys,  the  signs  of  the  restless 
scouts  of  the  great  army  of  miners  were  to 
be  seen  at  every  hand.  And  then  finally, 
in  the  very  September  that  followed  the 
return  of  Graham  and  Connell  to  take  up  the 
last  half  of  their  course  at  the  Academy, 
there  came  sudden  and  thrilling  announce 
ment  of  "big  finds"  along  Lance  Creek,  the 
upper  tributary  of  Silver  Run;  then  even 
finer  indications  on  the  Run  itself,  and  the 
West  went  wild.  All  of  a  sudden  the  moun 
tain-sides  bristled  with  armed  men  and  their 
burros.  Camps  sprang  up  in  a  night  and 
shafts  were  sunk  in  a  day.  Yampah  County, 
from  primeval  wilderness,  leaped  to  renown, 
with  a  population  of  ten  thousand.  Gold 
and  silver  came  "packed"  down  the  trails 
to  the  First  National.  Then,  faster  than  the 
precious  metal  came  down,  costly  machinery, 
and  prices,  went  up.  Fortunes  were  declared 
in  a  week.  Officers  and  men  at  Reynolds 
caught  the  craze. 

Many  an  old  sergeant  took  his  discharge 
and  his  savings  and  went  to  the  mines;  and 
33 


TO    THE    FRONT 

young  troopers  without  discharges  took  their 
lead  and  followed  suit,  and  the  colonel 
wired  the  War  Department  that  if  the  regi 
ment  wasn't  ordered  away  there  wouldn't 
be  anything  left  to  order  in  the  spring. 
Luckily,  heavy  snow-storms  came  and  block 
ed  the  trails,  and  there  was  a  lull  at  the 
mines,  but  unluckily,  not  before  the  few 
officers  at  Reynolds  who  had  saved  a  dollar 
had  invested  every  cent  of  their  savings  in 
the  shares  of  the  Golconda,  the  White  Eagle, 
the  Consolidated  Denver,  and  especially  the 
Silver  Shield,  and  the  man  who,  through 
frugality  and  good  management,  had  the 
most  to  invest,  and  who  had  invested  all,  was 
Major  Graham.  When  he  left  there  for  West 
Point  the  August  following  he  had  refused 
fcur  times  what  he  paid  for  his  shares,  and 
saw  fortune  smiling  on  his  pathway  to  the 
Hudson.  Now,  less  than  ten  months  there 
after,  on  the  borders  of  the  Hudson,  he  saw 
ruin  staring  him  in  the  face. 

For  there  had  been  assessments,  and  he 
had   borrowed   to  meet   them.     There   had 
come  rumors  of  "leaks"  and  he  had  kept 
34 


TO    THE    FRONT 

them  to  himself.  McCrea,  his  boy's  best 
friend  in  the  regiment,  had  consulted  him 
only  ten  days  back  as  to  whether  it  were  not 
wise  to  realize  on  a  portion  at  least  of  their 
holdings,  and  Graham,  dreading  a  "bear" 
movement  on  the  market,  had  said,  "Hold 
fast." 

And  now  McCrea  had  turned  back.  He 
must  go  at  once,  he  said,  to  the  telegraph 
office.  So  Graham,  his  sorrowing  wife,  and 
his  silent  boys  went  on.  She  led  him  into 
their  cheery  quarters,  and  seated  him  in  his  old 
arm-chair  and  came  and  nestled  beside  him. 

"What  is  there  to  grieve  about,  dear?" 
she  pleaded.  "What  does  it  really  matter 
to  us?  We  have  health,  home,  our  boys, 
each  other — quite  enough  to  live  on —  Why 
should  it  so  distress  you?  Indeed,  I  almost 
cried  aloud,  'Is  that  all?'  when  you  showed 
me  the  message.  I  feared  so  much  worse. 
Why,  think,  Graeme,  in  all  the  gay  crowd 
that  comes  here  every  day,  is  there  a  woman 
half  as  happy  as  I  am  ?  Is  there  one  of  them 
really  as  rich  as  we  are  —  we  who  have  so 
many  blessings?" 

35 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"It's  for  'Bud'  I'm  thinking  most  now," 
was  the  mournful  answer.  "There  can  be 
no  Columbia  for  him.  I've  borrowed  money 
to  meet  the  assessments,  and  the  money's 
got  to  be  paid.  This  isn't  like  having  one's 
house  burned,  or  his  ranch  blown  away,  his 
herds  scattered,  by  the  act  of  God.  This  is 
being  robbed  of  the  savings  of  years  by  organ 
ized,  legalized  swindlers,  men  who  claimed  to 
be  our  friends.  It's  that — and  my  helpless 
ness — that  hurts." 

The  boys  had  remained  without,  talking 
in  low,  grave  tones,  Bud's  boisterous  spirits 
suddenly  quenched.  Presently  the  sound 
of  their  murmuring  died  away.  There  was 
no  answer  when  Mrs.  Graham  called.  Going 
to  the  door  she  looked  anxiously  about  her. 
From  up  the  roadway  to  the  north  came  the 
sound  of  merry  voices  and  the  shuffle  of 
many  feet  —  the  battalion  hurrying  down 
the  broad  stone  steps  of  Grant  Hall  and 
forming  for  the  march  back  to  camp.  The 
young  " first  captain"  called  them  to  atten 
tion  and  gave  the  commands  that  swung  them 
into  column  of  platoons  and  striding  away 

36 


TO    THE    FRONT 

under  the  leafy  arch  to  the  open  plain.  Oh, 
with  what  pride  had  she  not  listened,  night 
after  night,  from  September  to  mid- June,  to 
Geordie's  ringing,  masterful  tones,  her  Geor- 
die, foremost  officer  of  the  Corps!  And  now 
all  that  was  ended  with  the  graduation  to 
which  he  had  so  long  looked  forward,  and 
now,  when  but  half  an  hour  ago  he  had  so 
rejoiced  in  his  assignment  to  the  regiment 
of  his  choice  —  now  must  come  this  cloud 
upon  his  young  life,  his  and  blithe-hearted 
Bud,  who  so  adored  him.  She  knew  well 
that  his  first  act  would  be  to  set  aside  a 
certain  portion  of  his  scanty  pay  for  her 
use,  and  for  her  own  part  she  would  not  so 
have  it. 

But  where  were  the  boys,  and  why  had 
they  gone?  It  was  some  minutes  before 
Bud  returned,  alone. 

1  'Where  is  Geordie?"  she  asked. 

Bud  dropped  his  cap  on  the  hall  table, 
looking  dispirited  and  troubled. 

"Gone  to  the  hotel,  mother — wants  to 
see" — with  a  gulp — "  McCrea — and  I'm  of  no 
use  to  anybody." 

37 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"You  can  be  and  will  be,"  was  the  gentle 
answer,  as  the  mother  wound  an  arm  about 
and  led  him  within.  There  in  silence  and  semi- 
darkness  they  sat  awhile.  The  doctor  had 
gone  into  his  little  library  to  look  over  memo 
randa  and  accounts.  It  was  nine  o'clock 
when  Geordie's  quick,  soldierly  step  was  heard 
on  the  walk  without.  He  came  bounding  up 
and  in,  alert,  virile,  and  vigorous. 
"You  saw  Mr.  McCrea,  Geordie?" 
"Yes,  mother.  He's  going  to  Newburg 
to  catch  the  Pacific  express  on  the  Central, 
and,  mother — I'm  going  with  him." 


CHAPTER  III 

AWAY   TO    THE    WEST 

BY  the  general  regulations  of  the  United 
States  army  there  is  granted  three 
months'  leave  of  absence  to  graduated  cadets 
of  the  Military  Academy,  to  be  taken  ad 
vantage  of  immediately  after  graduation. 
It  is  given  to  these  young  men  after  their 
four  years  of  rigorous  discipline  and  hard 
study,  that  they  may  have  abundant  time 
to  visit  home  and  friends,  and  to  enjoy  a 
period  of  rest  before  reporting  for  duty  again 
to  begin  their  careers  as  officers  of  the  army. 
For  nearly  two  weeks  since  Graham's 
graduation  day  the  mother  had  had  him  for 
her  very  own,  busying  herself  in  the  choice 
of  his  modest  outfit,  and  taking  it  not  a 
little  to  heart  that  he  declined  to  order  his 
uniform  and  equipment  until,  as  he  said,  he 
knew  where  he  was  going.  She  longed  to 
4  39 


TO    THE    FRONT 

see  him  in  his  " regimentals,"  yet  shrank 
from  it  as  a  reminder  that  all  too  soon  he 
would  be  taken  from  her  side  to  wear  it  day 
after  day  with  his  comrades  in  arms.  She 
could  not  think  of  that  parting  to  come  late 
in  September.  She  would  think  only  of  the 
glory  that  was  hers  in  having  him  here,  hav 
ing  him  now,  with  no  bugle-call  to  tear  him 
from  her  side.  She  was  just  beginning  to 
realize  her  possession,  her  happiness,  when 
that  hateful  telegram  told  of  disaster  at  the 
mines,  and  urged  her  husband  to  have  a 
representative  at  the  spot.  Within  one  hour 
of  its  receipt,  George  had  come  to  say  that 
he  would  be  that  representative,  and  within 
two  hours,  with  at  least  his  father's  full  con 
sent,  her  dream  was  at  an  end  and  her  boy 
was  gone. 

That  night  toward  ten  he  and  McCrea 
were  spinning  away  up  the  west  shore  under 
the  lofty,  rock-ribbed  scarp  of  Crow  Nest  and 
Storm  King,  to  ferry  over  to  Fishkill  from 
Newburg,  and  there  take  the  Pacific  ex 
press,  making  its  first  stop  out  of  New 
York  City.  Each  had  hurriedly  packed  such 
40 


TO    THE    FRONT 

store  of  clothing  as  seemed  most  appropriate 
to  the  region  and  the  business  to  which  he 
was  bound.  There  was  no  vestige  of  uniform 
or  badge  of  rank  and  station.  Geordie  took 
with  him  his  favorite  rifle,  and  in  his  valise, 
to  be  exhumed  when  they  reached  the 
Rockies,  was  a  revolver  he  knew,  rather  better 
than  his  classmates,  how  to  use,  for  he  had 
learned  as  a  lad  on  the  plains.  Each  had 
his  ticket  for  Chicago,  where  they  were 
to  change  for  Denver.  Each  had  a  money 
belt  and  a  modest  sum  in  currency.  Each 
had  his  hopes  of  rescuing  something  if  not 
all  of  the  imperilled  property,  and  neither 
had  even  a  vague  idea  of  the  peril,  difficulty, 
and  treachery  he  was  destined  to  encounter. 
Everything  had  promised  well  when  Silver 
Shield  was  first  exploited.  Its  promoters 
and  agents  showed  high-grade  ore,  and  re 
ports  of  expert  mining  engineers  promised 
abundance  of  it.  All  that  was  needed  was 
development.  "  Come  in  now,  on  the  ground- 
floor,  and  you'll  be  coining  money  in  a  year's 
time,"  said  Mr.  Breifogle,  and  to  the  number 
of  seven  the  commissioned  force  at  Fort 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Reynolds  had  "come."  So  long  as  they 
remained  close  to  the  spot  all  seemed  going 
well.  But  Graham  had  been  ordered  to  the 
Point,  and  the  regiment  over  in  the  Okla 
homa  country.  Then  came  trouble. 

It  seemed  odd  that  stock  held  so  high 
should  so  soon  have  to  be  assessed.  But 
"some  expensive  machinery  was  necessary." 
Then  came  a  second  and  larger  demand. 
Silver  Shield  was  so  valuable  that  envious 
eyes  had  been  directed  to  it,  and  fraudulent 
claims  and  claimants  were  constantly  turn 
ing  up.  Threatened  litigation  would  be  long 
and  expensive.  It  would  be  cheaper  far  to 
buy  off  the  litigants.  So  Graham,  with  a 
sigh  and  sore  premonition  of  trouble,  ob 
tained  the  necessary  amount  on  his  personal 
note.  McCrea,  with  inward  misgiving,  bor 
rowed  and  sent  it.  Officers  at  Reno  sent  up 
what  they  could,  but  it  wasn't  enough,  and 
in  May  came  a  third  appeal.  The  secretary 
wrote  that  litigation  had  begun,  and  there 
was  reason  to  believe  the  courts  were  being 
"approached"  by  the  enemy.  It  was  ab 
solutely  essential  that  "these  parties  should 
42 


TO    THE    FRONT 

be  bought  off,"  and  quite  a  sum  would  be 
necessary.  The  First  National  Bank  of 
Argenta  (which  had  once  been  robbed  of  a 
great  sum  by  road -agents,  who  were  run 
down  and  captured  by  officers  and  men  of 
the  — th,  and  the  money  recovered)  ought 
in  all  conscience  to  be  grateful  to  its  ben 
efactors,  yet  when  Graham,  McCrea,  and 
Major  Lawrence  wrote,  begging  advice  in 
the  premises,  the  bank  was  non-committal. 
Some  of  its  customers  were  among  the  liti 
gants,  as  was  later  discovered.  And  so  it 
resulted  that  not  until  near  the  end  of  June 
did  it  dawn  upon  the  officers  involved  that 
the  whole  matter  was  nothing  more  nor  less 
than  a  well-conceived,  but  rascally,  scheme 
to  "milk  them  dry,"  as  was  the  expression, 
secure  their  shares  at  a  sacrifice,  or  drive 
them  out  entirely. 

And  they,  the  absentees,  were  only  seven 
against  seventy  or  more,  who  were  experi 
enced  in  all  the  crafts  and  devices  by  which 
mines  have  been  dug  at  the  expense  of  the 
many  and  then  made  to  enrich  the  few. 

It  was  late  at  night  when  the  fellow- 
43 


TO    THE    FRONT 

travellers  reached  Denver.  McCrea  was  de 
pressed  and  silent,  Geordie  eager  to  push 
ahead.  The  former  had  had  time  to  think 
over  the  situation,  and  in  Chicago,  while 
waiting  for  the  Pacific  express  to  start,  he 
had  had  a  fifteen-minute  talk  with  a  relative, 
a  Western  business  man,  to  whom  mining 
and  undermining  were  matters  well  under 
stood,  and  what  this  expert  said  had  filled 
him  with  dismay.  "You've  simply  been 
bled  until  you  could  bleed  no  more,"  said  he. 
"  Now  they've  no  further  use  for  you.  What 
they  want  is  your  stock  at  five  cents  on  the 
dollar,  to  sell  to  some  new  gudgeon  at  fifty. 
Why  on  earth,  Mac,  when  you  were  con 
sidering  this,  didn't  you  consult  me  ?"  Why, 
indeed!  Like  many  another  man,  Mac's 
eyes  had  been  blinded,  his  ears  deafened  to 
everything  but  the  wiles  of  the  charmer. 
But  with  Geordie  it  was  different.  He  had 
come  because  his  father  was  bound  to  the 
wheel  of  duty  and  could  not.  Moreover, 
barring  inexperience  and  youth,  Geordie 
was  better  fitted  to  go  and  do  than  was  his 
father,  the  doctor. 

44 


TO    THE    FRONT 

He  would  waste  no  time  with  agents.  He 
would  employ  no  lawyer — that  was  simply 
waste  of  both  time  and  money.  Of  the  former 
they  had  little  and  of  the  latter  even  less. 
But  his  brain  was  active  and  fertile.  He  had 
slept  but  little  on  their  swift  westward  way 
until  after  crossing  the  Mississippi.  His 
mother's  grief  at  parting,  and  her  speechless 
anxiety  as  to  the  dangers  that  might  beset 
him,  had  affected  him  deeply,  and  at  first  his 
silence  and  preoccupation  were  due  to  that. 
But  the  fighting  blood  of  the  Graeme  was  in 
his  veins,  and  against  the  abominable  wrong 
these  "sharks"  would  do  his  father  and  his 
scattered  friends  the  young  fellow  was  bent 
on  giving  valiant  battle;  and  he  thought  he 
saw  his  way  to  strike  and  to  strike  hard. 

McCrea  had  given  him  the  names  of  most 
of  the  sergeants  of  the  old  regiment  who, 
when  their  time  expired,  had  taken  their 
discharge  and  gone  to  the  mines.  Among 
them  were  three  on  whom  he  believed  he 
could  count  to  back  him  in  a  pinch.  Among 
them  was  the  veteran  Nolan,  on  whom  he 
knew  he  could  count. 

45 


TO    THE    FRONT 

McCrea  had  wired  ahead  to  an  old  and 
trusted  friend,  a  resident  of  Denver  and  a 
successful  railway  engineer.  He  was  at 
the  station  waiting  when  the  two  alighted 
from  their  train.  It  was  McCrea's  plan  to 
spend  one  day  in  Denver  in  consultation 
with  certain  officials,  and  then  to  spring  a 
surprise  on  the  "board"  at  Argenta  two 
days  later.  He  had  wired  to  Fort  Reno 
on  the  way,  urging  that  one  officer,  at  least, 
of  those  most  interested  should  hasten  to 
Denver  and  meet  him,  and  in  the  hands  of 
Mr.  Warden,  their  engineer  friend,  was  the 
reply:  Captain  Lee  would  be  with  them  in 
the  morning.  To  register  at  a  prominent 
hotel  would  simply  advertise  their  coming. 
Warden  had  seen  to  that  and  engaged  quar 
ters  for  them  near  his  own.  Thither  they 
were  to  go  at  once,  and,  valises  in  hand,  they 
followed  Warden's  lead,  McCrea  and  their 
guide  talking  eagerly  together,  Geordie  fol 
lowing,  silent  and  observant.  Toward  the 
iron  gateway  they  pressed,  jostled  and 
elbowed  by  hurrying  passengers. 

"  It's  but  a  few  blocks'  walk,"  Warden  was 
46 


TO    THE    FRONT 

saying.  "I've  a  cart  to  take  your  grips 
and  we  can  chat  as  we  go.  I  thought  you'd 
be  glad  of  a  bite  or  a  cup  of  tea  or  some 
thing  before  turning  in.  Mr.  Ross,  who 
wired  Dr.  Graham,  is  here,  and  he'll  meet 
us  at  the  restaurant.  He  thinks  they  are 
following  him — shadowing  him." 

"Who?"  asked  McCrea. 

"Why,  the  crowd  that  are  trying  to  get 
control  there  of  Silver  Shield.  Some  of 
them  live  in  Argenta,  he  says,  and  found 
out  he  had  been  in  correspondence  with  the 
doctor,  and  that  it  was  he  who  had  given 
warning."  Then,  glancing  over  his  shoulder 
as  they  neared  the  gate,  and  speaking  to 
Geordie,  he  continued,  "What  is  the  name 
of  the  brewer  up  there  who  wanted  your  place 
at  the  Point  for  his  son?" 

"Breifogle." 

"That's  the  man,"  answered  Warden. 
"Ross  says  he's  one  of  the  leaders  of  the 
move.  Most  of  his  money  has  been  made 
by  freezing  out  other  men." 

And  just  at  that  moment,  moving  leisurely 
along  in  the  rear  of  the  train-load  of  belated 
47 


TO    THE    FRONT 

passengers,  they  reached  the  exit  gate,  and 
the  instant  they  came  under  the  broad,  blue- 
white  glare  of  the  electric  globe  overhead 
there  was  a  sudden  stir  in  the  little  gathering 
along  the  iron  fence.  A  burly  young  man 
darted  swiftly  away,  and  in  his  haste  trip 
ped  backward  over  an  empty  baby  carriage. 
In  a  second  he  was  floundering  on  the  floor, 
his  bowler  hat  rolling  one  way,  his  stick 
flying  another.  A  shrill  voice  began  to  be 
rate  him  as  he  struggled  to  his  feet,  but 
he  paused  neither  to  explain  nor  listen.  He 
swooped  for  his  hat  and  shot  for  a  dark 
passage,  but  not  before  Geordie  had  caught 
a  glimpse  of  his  face. 

"That  was  young  Breifogle,"  said  he. 


CHAPTER  IV 

"I'M    READY    NOW" 

INHERE  was  no  other  train  over  the  Trans 
continental,  westward,  before  7.30  A.M. 
They  had  reached  Denver  by  the  Pacific 
express,  and  in  five  minutes  the  sleeper  in 
which  the  two  had  journeyed  from  Chicago 
would  be  whirling  swiftly  away  for  "The 
Springs"  before  beginning  the  long,  tort 
uous  climb  over  the  huge  bulwark  between 
them  and  the  watershed  of  the  great  Col 
orado  beyond.  There  had  really  been  no 
reason  why  Graham  should  stop  over  at 
Denver.  He  knew  none  of  the  officials  of 
the  Silver  Shield  there  resident.  He  did  not 
wish  to  know  them.  They  had  doubtless 
conspired  with  their  associates  at  Argenta  to 
" squeeze  out"  his  father  and  friends.  They 
hoped  and  expected  to  buy  in  for  a  song  the 
valuable  stock  held  by  this  scattered  band  of 
49 


TO    THE    FRONT 

soldiers  and  some  twenty  or  thirty  pros 
pective  victims  in  the  distant  East.  This 
would  give  them  a  controlling  interest  in 
the  property.  It  would  make  them  virtual 
owners  of  a  valuable  mine.  It  would  make 
them  richer  by  far  than  they  were  before 
hand.  This  would  impoverish,  and  it  might 
ruin,  many  of  the  absent  who  had  furnished 
the  means  by  which  Silver  Shield  was  de 
veloped.  It  was  robbery  outright,  but  rob 
bery  of  a  kind  so  common  in  our  country 
that  people  have  become  callous  to  it.  It 
was  by  just  such  means  and  methods  that 
many  of  the  great  fortunes  of  America  have 
been  won,  and  the  winners  ride  to-day  on 
the  topmost  wave  of  prosperity  and  popular 
acclaim,  when,  if  the  people  but  realized  the 
truth,  many  an  object  of  their  adulation 
would  be  wearing  convict  stripes  and  prison 
pallor  to  the  end  of  his  dishonored  days. 

But  Graham  had  journeyed  with  his  long 
time  friend  and  senior  officer — senior  by  seven 
years — and  McCrea's  plans,  to  a  certain  point, 
seemed  to  dominate  those  of  the  younger  and 
less  experienced  man.  McCrea's  idea  was  to 
50 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"tackle"  the  local  directors  first  and  compel 
recognition  of  their  rights.  He,  as  post 
quartermaster,  had  had  business  dealings 
with  bankers  and  merchants  both  in  Denver 
and  Chicago.  He  believed  that,  reinforced 
by  the  presence  of  Captain  Lee  from  Reno, 
he  could  make  a  certain  impression,  or  else 
certain  threats,  that  would  bring  these  mag 
nates  to  time. 

But  Dr.  Graham,  an  older  head,  thought 
otherwise,  had  so  instructed  Geordie  and  so 
endeavored  to  impress  McCrea.  The  men, 
said  he,  had  planned  this  out.  "  They  stand 
to  lose  little  in  the  market  if  the  stocks  are 
'beared.'  They  have  invested  little;  we 
have  invested  our  all.  If  nothing  was  found 
they  could  quit.  If  good  ore  was  found, 
then  it  was  their  game  to  conceal  the  fact, 
to  demand  more  and  more  money  for  more 
and  more  development,  force  us  out,  get  our 
shares,  and  own  the  property.  Why,  laddie, 
the  man  that  warned  me  dared  not  sign  his 
name,  for  every  wire  was  watched;  yet  I'd 
stake  six  months'  pay  he's  got  the  rights  of 
it.  There's  ore  there  in  plenty!" 


TO    THE    FRONT 

And  so  every  indication  said  at  the  start. 
It  wasn't  until  many  Eastern  people  had 
been  induced  to  invest  (Dr.  Graham's  New 
York  friends,  the  Fraziers,  among  them)  that 
managers  and  directors  began  to  tell  dismal 
tales  and  ask  for  more  and  more.  It  was 
then  that  Dr.  Graham  bethought  him  of  a 
brother  Scot  who  dwelt  near  Argenta,  a  man 
once  so  poor  that  when  his  bairns  were  down 
with  diphtheria  he  could  not  coax  Argenta 
doctors  out  across  the  five -mile  stretch  of 
storm-swept,  frozen  prairie.  It  was  the  burly 
post  surgeon  from  the  fort  who  rode  eight 
miles  to  and  eight  miles  back  in  any  kind  of 
weather,  night  or  day,  until  he  snatched 
those  babies  back  from  death,  and  gave  them, 
weak  and  gasping,  yet  alive,  to  the  arms  of 
their  weeping  and  imploring  and  at  last  re 
joicing  mother.  Oh,  those  are  deeds  that 
women  remember  so  long  as  life  remains  to 
them,  and  that  but  few  men  forget,  and  the 
clansman,  who  couldn't  begin  to  pay  in  cash 
for  what  "the  Graeme"  had  done  for  him 
and  his,  could  reward  in  fealty  now.  It  was 
Donald  Ross  to  whom  the  doctor  had  writ- 
52 


TO    THE    FRONT 

ten,  and  Ross  who  made  investigation  and 
reply. 

And  yet,  though  he  had  taken  precaution 
to  send  his  letter  from  a  village  post-office, 
and  his  message  from  a  railway  station  ten 
miles  east  of  Argent  a,  the  spies  of  Silver 
Shield  had  heard  of  one  or  both,  and  now 
their  watcher  knew  that  two  at  least  of  the 
enemy  were  in  their  camp.  For  what  else 
was  young  Breifogle  there?  For  what  but 
to  give  warning  had  he  so  suddenly  vanished  ? 

It  was  of  all  this  that  Geordie  was  thinking, 
as  silently  he  strode  along  by  the  side  of  the 
two  elders,  hearing  yet  scarcely  heeding 
their  eager  talk.  He  had  plans  and  projects 
of  his  own.  Father  was  not  the  only  one 
who  had  a  friend  or  two  in  Yampah  and  up 
the  range.  Veteran  troopers  of  the  old 
regiment  were  scouting  there  for  gold  and 
silver,  where  ten  years  earlier  they  had 
scouted  for  the  red  warriors  of  Colorow  and 
Yampah  Jack.  If  he  could  but  get  in  touch 
with  Nolan,  with  Feeny,  with  almost  any 
one  of  those  now  mining  who  once  rode  in 
"  E  "  Troop!  If  he  could  only  reach  some  of 
53 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  men  he  guided  over  the  Divide  to  the 
successful  capture  of  the  gang  that  looted 
the  First  National!  Oh,  the  shame  of  Brei- 
f ogle's  ingratitude!  As  one  of  the  bank's 
directors  at  that  time,  he  had  pledged  ever 
lasting  gratitude  to  the  officers  and  troopers 
who  had  restored  their  treasure. 

Suddenly  Warden  turned  a  corner,  pushed 
back  a  swinging  door,  led  the  way  into  a 
clean,  brightly  lighted  little  "dairy"  res 
taurant,  passed  on  through  to  the  less  public 
tables  partitioned  off  in  alcoves  of  their  own, 
and  here,  behind  an  outspread  newspaper, 
sat,  lonely  and  expectant,  a  broad-shouldered 
ranchman  whose  weather-beaten  face  beamed 
joyously  at  sight  of  the  three,  and  whose 
big  hands  were  on  young  Graham's  squared 
shoulders  before  they  had  fairly  shaken  greet 
ing  to  any  one.  "Geordie,  mon,  but  it's 
glad  I  am  to  see  ye!"  was  the  whispered  wel 
come.  "  Softly,  now,  there's — others  here." 

Quickly   they   were    served   with    steaks, 

scrambled  eggs,  toast,  tea  or  coffee,  as  they 

chose,  and  two  at  least  were  hungry,  yet 

Geordie,  brimful  of  eagerness  to  put  his  plan 

54 


TO    THE    FRONT 

into  execution,  could  hardly  spare  time  to 
eat.  Yes,  Ross  knew  Nolan  and  Feeny  of 
old.  Many's  the  time  they'd  dropped  in  at 
the  ranch  when  antelope-stalking  down  the 
foot-hills.  Nolan  had  prospered.  He  and 
Feeny,  both,  when  last  heard  of  were  some 
where  up  among  the  mines.  Burns  was  in 
Collins's  Camp  on  Lance  Creek.  Toomey  and 
Scully  had  got  "  cleaned  out "  and  were  firing 
on  the  Transcontinental. 

"Where?"  demanded  Geordie,  his  eyes 
dilating. 

"  Mountain  Division,  both  of  'em.  Toomey 
on  the  Mogul  that  pulls  the  Time  Freight  over 
the  range — ' '  And  here  Geordie  stopped  him. 

"Hear  this,  Mr.  McCrea,"  said  he. 
"  Toomey,  of  '  E  '  Troop,  fireman  on  the 
big  freight-engine!  He'll  surely  know  where 
the  others  are.  Now,  you  know  the  railway 
people.  You  say  you've  got  to  stay  here 
a  day  or  two.  Get  me  permission  to  ride  on 
any  freight  -  engine,  Mountain  Division,  for 
the  next  three  days,  and  I'm  off  for  the 
mines  before  we're  half  a  day  older,  and  no 
man  here  or  there  the  wiser." 
55 


TO    THE    FRONT 

''They'd  spot  you  as  you  went  through 
Argenta,"  said  McCrea.  "Breifogle  will  be 
watching  every  train." 

"Every  car  of  every  train,  perhaps;  but 
I'll  be  firing  by  the  time  we  get  there,  black 
with  soot  and  coal-dust,  and  they  wouldn't 
know  me  if  they  saw  me.  If  the  division 
superintendent  doesn't  give  it  away  —  and 
you — who's  to  know  I've  turned  fireman  on 
a  freight  ?  There's  my  chance,  McCrea,  and 
you  know  it!" 

"By  Jove,  Geordie,  but  I  believe  you're 
right,"  was  McCrea's  answer,  rising  to  his 
feet  and  facing  the  eager  young  fellow  across 
the  table.  "You're  a  'dandy,'  as  was  said 
of  you  on  graduation  day,  only  it  was  meant 
in  a  different  sense.  Who's  in  charge  at 
the  station  now,  Warden?"  he  asked,  with 
sudden  resolution.  "I  knew  most  of  their 
traffic  men  when  I  was  quartermaster." 

Warden  whipped  out  a  railway  folder. 
"Colorado  Transcontinental,"  he  read,  and 
began  skimming  down  a  long  list  of  official 
titles  and  names.  Traffic  managers,  freight 
and  passenger  agents,  superintendents,  divi- 
56 


TO    THE    FRONT 

sion  superintendents,  and  then,  "Here  we 
are,  Mountain  Division:  W.  B.  Anthony." 

"Know  him  well,"  cried  McCrea.  "He 
brought  the  first  passengers  up  to  Argenta 
in  eighty-seven.  He  was  freight  conductor 
on  the  U.  P.  when  I  was  a  boy  at  Cheyenne. 
We'll  nab  him  first  thing  in  the  morning." 

"Can't  we  nab  him  to-night?"  asked 
Geordie. 

McCrea  laughed.  "You're  keen  as  your 
father,  Pops,"  said  he.  "Niver  put  off  till 
t'-morrow  what  can  be  done  the  day." 

"The  laddie's  right,"  said  Ross.  "I'm 
betting  you'll  find  him  at  the  yards  till  after 
No.  2  comes  in — the  Flyer — that's  due  at 
12.40." 

And  so  it  happened  that,  as  the  clocks  were 
pointing  to  the  quarter  after  midnight, 
Lieutenant  Ralph  McCrea  and  the  newly 
appointed  subaltern,  both  in  plain  travelling 
dress,  once  more  appeared  at  the  Union 
Station,  and  presently  learned  that  Mr. 
Anthony  was  about  the  yard.  It  was  not 
long  thereafter  that  they  found  him,  busy, 
as  such  men  must  ever  be,  yet  recognizing 
57 


TO    THE    FRONT 

McCrea  at  a  glance  and  giving  him  cordial 
welcome. 

But  when  McCrea  presented  his  friend, 
"Lieutenant  Graham,  whose  father  you 
probably  knew  as  post  surgeon  at  Reynolds," 
and  then  made  his  request,  the  official  looked 
grave. 

"It's  against  orders,"  said  he.  "The  Old 
Man  has  jacked  up  more  than  one  of  the  best 
engineers  for  allowing  it.  Why,  the  Gov 
ernor  had  to  get  a  permit  from  the  general 
manager  for  his  son  to  ride  in  the  cab  of  the 
Flyer  only  last  week,  and  for  some  reason 
they Ve  shut  down  on  our  freight  people  en 
tirely.  Gil  Frost,  bringing  his  own  brother, 
who  used  to  fire  on  the  Union  Pacific,  over 
on  old  550  two  weeks  ago,  had  to  dance 
the  carpet  the  next  morning  right  here  in 
Denver." 

"  How  do  you  break  in  your  new  firemen  ?" 
asked  Geordie.  "  Some  of  our  best  men  are 
firing  for  you  now.  They  had  to  begin 
somehow,  I  suppose." 

"  Pitch  'em  neck  and  crop  into  a  cab,  with 
a  short-handled  shovel  and  a  sharp-tongued 
58 


TO    THE    FRONT 

old  hand.  It  nigh  breaks  their  backs,  but 
they  learn  quick  that  way." 

"Well,  pitch  me,  neck  and  crop,  into  a 
cab,  with  as  short  a  handle  and  sharp  a 
tongue  as  you  like,  Mr.  Anthony.  I'm  on 
three  months'  leave,  and  for  reasons  of  my 
own  want  to  learn  how  to  fire  an  engine." 

For  a  moment  Anthony  looked  at  the 
young  fellow  in  amaze.  Then  the  resolute, 
square- jawed,  clean-cut  face  began  to  im 
press  him. 

"Well,  I've  been  dealing  with  you  army 
men  out  here  nigh  onto  twenty  years,"  said 
he,  "  and  I'm  blessed  if  I  ever  heard  the  like 
of  that." 

"Don't  let  it  surprise  you  into  telling  it, 
Anthony,  that's  all, ' '  put  in  McCrea.  "  Here ! 
Let  me  give  you  a  pointer — you've  got  a 
West  Pointer.  I've  known  you  for  a  square 
man  ever  since  we  were  stationed  at  Russell," 
and,  linking  his  arm  in  that  of  the  astonished 
official,  McCrea  drew  him  a  few  paces  away 
from  the  point  where  they  found  him,  with  a 
great  passenger-engine  hissing  ana  throbbing 
close  at  hand,  waiting  to  take  the  Flyer 
59 


TO    THE    FRONT 

whirling  eastward  toward  the  Missouri. 
Geordie  stood  silently  and  watched  them. 
He  saw  the  wonderment  in  Anthony's  strong 
face  give  way  to  interest  as  McCrea  talked 
rapidly  on ;  saw  interest  deepen  to  sympathy 
and  a  certain  excitement.  In  three  minutes 
Anthony  broke  away  and  came  hurrying 
back,  looking  at  his  watch. 

"Mr.  Graham,"  said  he,  "d'  you  want  to 
go  up  the  line  this  very  night?  Could  you 
be  ready  in  two  hours?" 

"I'm  ready  now,"  was  the  instant  reply. 
"All  I  want  is  an  old  cap  and  overalls — the 
blacker  the  better." 


CHAPTER  V 

FIRST   NIGHT    ON   THE    RANGE 

AWAY  up  among  the  Rockies,  with  tower 
ing,  pine  -  fringed,  snow  -  sprinkled  crests 
looming  dimly  about  them  in  the  moonlight, 
two  young  men  stood  waiting  by  a  switch- 
target  of  the  Transcontinental.  Facing  west 
ward,  they  could  see  the  huge  bulk  of  the 
mountain  range  rolling  up  between  them 
and  the  starry  sky  -  line,  black  and  forbid 
ding  in  the  middle  distance,  yet  fading  away 
northward  and  southward  into  faint  and 
tender  outlines — soft  grays  and  violets — and 
with  the  earliest  signals  in  the  East  of  the 
speedy  coming  of  the  long  summer's  day. 
Facing  eastward,  there  confronted  them 
close  at  hand  the  huge  black  bulk  of  the 
mammoth  Mogul  engine,  its  dazzling  head 
light  shining  afar  up  the  westward  right  of 
way,  and  throwing  into  heavier  shade,  by 
61 


TO    THE    FRONT 

force  of  contrast,   every  object  outside  its 
beams.     In  the   solemn   stillness  of  nature 
in  those  high  levels,  almost  the  only  sound 
was  the  soft  hiss  of  escaping  steam  from  the 
cylinder-cocks  or  an  occasional  rumble  from 
the  boiler.     Even  murmured  words  seemed 
audible  and  intelligible  sixty  feet  away,  and 
twice  big  Ben  Tillson,  the  engineer  of  705, 
had  pricked  up  his  ears  as  he  circled  about 
his    giant    steed,    oiling    the    grimy    joints, 
elbows,  and  bearings,  and  pondering  in  his 
heavy,  methodical  way  over  certain  parting 
instructions  that  had  come  to  him  from  the 
lips    of    the    division    superintendent.     "A 
young  feller  learning  firing  "  would  board  him 
at  Chimney  Switch,  forty  miles  out  from  the 
Springs,  and  the  Boss  desired  Ben  Tillson  to 
understand  that  "  The  Road  "  had  its  reasons, 
and  the  "young  feller"  was  to  be  spared  the 
customary  quizzing.     Furthermore,  Ben  Till 
son  was  to  understand  that  nothing  was  to 
be  said  about  it.     If  anybody  at  Argenta  or 
among  the  mines  had  any  questions  to  ask, 
Ben  was  to  know  next  to  nothing. 

But  what  set  Ben's  wits  to  work  was  the 
62 


TO    THE    FRONT 

odd  behavior  of  his  fireman,  Jim  Toomey. 
Toomey  was  a  silent  sort  of  chap  as  a  rule, 
and  surely,  too,  with  a  grudge  against  the 
gang  over  in  Hatch's  Cove  and  up  the  Run. 
Toomey  had  taken  to  firing  because  he  had 
got  cleaned  out  at  the  mines.  Toomey 
ordinarily  wasn't  over -civil  to  anybody. 
Toomey,  too,  had  been  favored  with  a  word 
from  Mr.  Anthony,  and  never  had  Big  Ben 
seen  his  fireman  more  cheery  over  his  work 
than  he  was  that  night  as  they  panted  and 
strained  up  the  foot-hills  to  Chimney  Switch. 
Ben  could  have  sworn  Toomey  was  "  excited 
like  "  when  they  side-tracked  there  for  a  way- 
train,  and  never  in  the  course  of  Big  Ben's 
experience  had  he  seen  an  old  fireman  greet 
a  would-be  as  Toomey  welcomed  the  tall 
"  young  feller  "  in  the  dirty  cap,  shirt,  and  over 
alls  who  there  clambered  into  the  cab.  Twice, 
Ben  could  have  further  sworn,  he  had  heard 
Toomey  say  "  sir,"  a  word  Toomey  used  to  no 
one  less  than  the  division  superintendent. 

Somewhat    grudgingly    and    suspiciously, 
therefore,    had    Ben    nodded    greeting    and 
looked  the  "young  feller"  over.     He  did  not 
63 


TO    THE    FRONT 

extend  his  hand.  The  new-comer  had  on  a 
pair  of  oiled-buck  gauntlets,  "soldier  gaunt 
lets,"  such  as  the  cavalry  used  to  have  at 
Reynolds,  that  "all  the  boys  in  the  cabs  are 
stuck  on."  Even  at  the  hardest  kind  of 
shovelling  they  outlived  every  other  kind 
a  dozen  weeks,  and  the  fireman  was  a  lucky 
malefactor  who  could  induce  a  soldier  to  part 
with  his. 

And  though  the  "young  feller's"  cap  and 
clothing  were  strictly  and  unimpeachably 
professional  and  grimy,  it  was  the  face  no 
less  than  the  gloves  and  boots  that  told 
Ben  Tillson  this  was  no  needy  seeker  after  a 
job.  The  boots  were  new  and  fine,  laced 
daintily  up  the  front,  and  showed  their  style 
even  through  the  lack  of  polish  and  the  coat 
ing  of  dust  and  ashes.  The  gauntlets  also, 
though  worn  and  old,  were  innocent  of  grease. 
This  was  no  cub  fireman,  said  Ben,  resent 
fully,  as  he  revolved  in  mind  a  scheme  or  two 
that  should  take  the  stuffing  of  conceit 
out  of  him,  when  suddenly  he  paused. 
"Why,  certainly,"  Ben  had  it,  just  another 
case  such  as  he  had  been  reading  about, 
64 


TO    THE    FRONT 

how  the  sons  of  successful  railway  magnates, 
discarding  wealth  and  luxuries,  had  deter 
mined  to  learn  the  business  from  the  bottom 
up  and  fit  themselves  for  future  eminence 
in  railway  circles.  The  " young  feller"  must 
be  a  Gould  or  a  Vanderbilt,  a  Ledyard,  a 
Huntington,  a  son  of  somebody  at  the  finan 
cial  head  of  things.  While  sacrificing  none 
of  his  steady  self-reliance  or  self-respect,  Ben 
Tillson  decided  to  treat  his  new  fireman,  as 
sistant  to  the  old,  with  all  due  civility.  He 
would  cringe  or  kowtow  to  no  one,  but,  like 
the  sturdy  citizen  he  was,  Ben  deemed  it 
wise  to  keep  on  the  good  side  of  the  powers. 
It  was  necessary,  however,  that  the  new 
comer  should  understand  who  was  boss  on 
that  engine,  and  even  as  they  stood  waiting 
at  the  Chimney  Ben  had  taken  occasion  to 
say,  "I  see  you're  not  stuck  on  shovelling, 
young  man" ;  then  with  a  most  knowing  and 
suggestive  wink,  "I  reckon  you'd  rather  do 
tennis  or  tiddlywinks,"  and  was  surprised  at 
the  answer. 

"As  matters  stand,  I'd  rather  be  shovelling 
here  than  playing  tennis — anywhere." 
65 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"  It's  the  first  time  you  ever  saw  the  West 
from  a  cab-window,  I'm  betting,"  said  Ben. 
And  George  Graham,  who  had  seen  more  of 
the  West  than  Ben  could  ever  hope  to  see, 
and  who  knew  the  Silver  Run  country  before 
ever  the  railway  reached  the  foot-hills,  had 
the  wisdom  to  answer,  "  You'd  win." 

And  now  at  Buffalo  Butte  705  was  side 
tracked,  awaiting  the  coming  of  passenger 
No.  4,  east  bound,  and  then — then  there 
would  be  a  clear  run  to  and  through  Argenta. 
Then  would  come  the  familiar  scenes  about 
old  Fort  Reynolds;  then  the  wild  and  pict 
uresque  beauty  of  Squaw  Canon  and  Hatch's 
Cove,  and  then  George  Graham  would  be  able 
to  judge  by  surface  indications  how  far  his 
disguise  had  really  disguised  him.  Toomey 
had  already  told  him  where  Nolan  and  Feeny 
could  be  found.  Toomey  was  to  send  word 
or  a  letter  to  both  of  them,  and  then  it  would 
be  time  to  decide  on  the  next  move. 

For  now  the  scheme  was  to  reach  the  heart 
of  what  might  be  called  the  enemy's  country, 
and  to  get  there  unsuspected,  unobserved, 
and  thus  far  all  was  working  well. 
66 


TO    THE    FRONT 

It  was  the  second  morning  after  his  reach 
ing  Denver.  Mr.  Anthony  had  put  him 
through  to  the  Springs,  and  then  to  Chimney 
Switch,  where  he  was  to  wait  for  705  and 
Toomey.  And  even  now  as  they  stood  there, 
he  and  Toomey,  exchanging  at  intervals 
some  low -toned  words  at  the  switch,  the 
eastward  skies  were  slowly  taking  on  their 
early  morning  garb  of  pink  and  violet,  the 
eastward  fronts  of  the  snow-sifted  peaks  and 
domes  far  to  the  north  and  south  were  light 
ing  up  with  wondrous  hues  of  gold  and 
crimson;  the  stars  aloft  were  paling  and  the 
moon  was  sinking  low,  and  still  big  705  stood 
hissing  and  grumbling  placidly  on  the  long 
siding,  and  the  green  lights  back  at  the 
caboose  blinked  sleepily  against  the  dawn. 
Two  glimmering  threads  of  light  in  rigid 
right  lines,  converging  far  beyond  the  rear  of 
the  train,  stretched  eastward  from  their  feet 
until  lost  in  the  shadows  of  Buffalo  Butte, 
and  not  yet  had  Toomey 's  accustomed  ear 
been  able  to  detect  the  faint,  whirring,  song  of 
the  rails  that  tells  of  the  coming  of  far-dis 
tant,  thundering  wheels .  ' '  She 's  late  again , ' ' 
67 


TO    THE    FRONT 

said  Toomey,  uneasily.  "We  should  have 
heard  her  whistling  for  Spearman's  Ranch 
five  minutes  ago,  and  I  wanted  to  pull  you 
out  of  Argenta  before  seven  o'clock." 

"You  still  think  I'm  not  grimy  enough," 
said  Geordie,  with  a  grin.  "  I  can  lay  on  a 
coat  of  coal-dust — " 

"Tisn't  that,"  came  the  murmured  an 
swer,  with  a  shake  of  the  head.  "It's  the 
back  and  shoulders,  sir.  You  couldn't  turn 
yourself  hindside-f oremost,  could  you,  and  get 
your  chest  between  your  shoulder-blades?" 

"I  can  cultivate  a  stoop,"  said  Geordie, 
with  a  forward  hunch  of  the  shoulders,  "  But 
there  you  go  with  that  'sir'  again.  We're  in 
uniform,  but  not  that  of  the  cavalry.  You'll 
betray  me  yet,  Toomey,  if  you're  not  careful. 
Now,  about  the  stoop — " 

"It  might  do,  s— ,  if  you  could  keep  it, 
but  from  the  time  you  came  to  Reynolds  you 
were  the  straightest  boy  in  the  garrison,  and 
now,  with  four  years  at  West  Point,  you've 
got  a  back  on  you  flat  as  a  board.  That's 
what's  going  to  queer  us  in  passing  you  off 
for  a  kid  fireman.  It  was  hard  enough  going 
68 


TO    THE    FRONT 

through  before  it  was  fairly  light.  Now,  un 
less  No.  4  gets  in  in  five  minutes,  the  sun  will 
be  lighting  the  length  of  the  shed  at  Argenta, 
and  we've  got  cars  to  cut  out  there,  too. 
Confound  No.  4!" 

And  then  a  certain  superfluous  lantern, 
bleary  with  a  night  of  service,  came  dawdling 
up  the  side  of  the  train,  and  the  conductor 
hove  in  sight,  watch  in  hand.  "Four  left 
Argenta  on  time,"  said  he  to  the  engineer. 
"What  the  mischief  keeps  her?  She  ought 
to  have  gone  by  five  minutes  ago.  Who's 
yonder  with  Toomey?" 

"  Friend  of  his ;  young  feller  from  Chimney, 
learning  firing.  Old  man's  orders, ' '  he  added, 
at  sight  of  rebuke  in  the  conductor's  eyes. 
"  Told  me  himself  to  take  him  along  and  give 
him  a  show." 

The  conductor  set  his  lantern  down  near 
the  fore  truck  of  the  tender.  He  did  not  half 
like  it  that  a  superior  should  give  orders  to 
his  engineer  that  did  not  come  through  him. 
He  had  been  a  soldier  in  his  day  and  accus 
tomed  to  military  ways  of  doing  things.  He 
was  already  chafing  over  a  delay  that  would 
69 


TO    THE    FRONT 

bring  him  behind  time  to  Argenta.  Now 
he  was  nettled  at  this  apparent  slight. 
"When  did  he  tell  you,  and  where?"  was  the 
demand.  "  He  was  at  Denver  the  last  I  saw 
of  him." 

"He  ran  out  to  the  Springs  on  No.  5; 
passed  you  at  Monument,  probably ;  spoke  to 
me  at  the  round-house  about  ten  o'clock." 
And  having  thus  summarily  settled  the  mat 
ter,  Big  Ben  clambered  sulkily  once  more 
into  the  cab. 

The  conductor  made  a  grimace  expressive 
of  much  disgust.  Presently  he  turned,  left 
his  lantern  by  the  side  of  the  engine,  and 
then  came  angering  on  to  the  switch.  He 
decided  to  see  for  himself  what  the  stranger 
was  like. 

In  the  gray  light  of  the  dawn  the  two  young 
men,  one  of  them  stockily,  strongly  built, 
the  other  very  slender  and  erect,  were  ab 
sorbed  in  eager  talk.  Not  until  the  con 
ductor  was  within  five  yards  of  them  did 
Graham  note  his  coming  and  signal  "Hush." 
Abruptly  came  the  challenge: 

"  'Ain't  you  heard  her  whistle  yet, 
70 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Toomey?"  and  the  tone  implied  that  sheer 
neglect  could  be  the  only  explanation  for 
Toomey's  failure  in  case  no  whistle  had  been 
heard. 

"  Nary  whistle,"  was  the  indifferent  answer. 

"Well,  how  could  you  expect  to  hear  it? 
You  were  talking  a  blue  streak."  And  while 
the  conductor's  rebuke  was  levelled  at  Too 
mey,  his  sombre  eyes  were  on  Graham. 

"  Doing  that  to  keep  awake,"  was  the  blunt 
reply.  "Haven't  been  to  bed  for  thirty 
hours." 

"That's  nothing.  In  my  day  a-soldiering 
we  didn't  get  to  bed  once  a  week.  That's 
when  we  was  after  Morgan.  You  regulars 
couldn't  stand  that,  I  s'pose." 

"In  my  day  we  didn't  get  to  bed  once  a 
month,"  answered  Toomey,  with  equal  truth. 
"That  was  when  we  was  after  Sittin'  Bull. 
The  volunteers  that  started  on  that  chase 
petered  out  at  Powder  River." 

The  conductor  sniffed.     It  had  been  give 

and  take  'twixt  him  and  Toomey  ever  since 

the  discovery  that  each  had  served  in  the 

cavalry.     Beaten  thus  far  in  the  battle  of 

e  71 


TO    THE    FRONT 

chaff,   the  conductor  tried   another    as   he 
studied  Geordie  with  unfriendly  eyes. 

"Got  a  kid  fireman  here — 'nother  of  y'r 
officers'  dog-robbers?"  he  demanded. 

Toomey  whirled  on  him  in  an  instant, 
in  spite  of  Geordie's  quick  -  gripping  hand. 
"  You're  boss  on  this  train,  Cullin,"  said  he, 
savagely,  "and  you  know  I  can't  jaw  back 
as  you  deserve,  but  if  Bob  Anthony  happens 
to  be  where  he  can  hear  of  that  remark,  you'll 
get  your  time  or  I'm  a  liar." 

For  a  moment  Cullin  stood  and  glared, 
wrath  and  humiliation  commingling.  Gra 
ham  it  was  who  quickly  stepped  forward  and 
interposed. 

"Yes,  I'm  playing  kid  fireman,  Mr.  Cullin," 
said  he,  quietly,  "and  I  was  told  by  the 
division  superintendent  if  any  trouble  arose 
to  give  this  to  the  conductor,"  whereat  he 
held  forth  a  card  on  the  back  of  which  dimly 
appeared  some  written  words.  Over  these 
Cullin  glanced,  unappeased,  until  he  came 
to  the  last  line  and  signature.  Then  a 
curious  change  swept  slowly  over  his  face. 
He  looked  Graham  carefully,  doubtfully 

72 


TO    THE    FRONT 

from  head  to  foot,  slowly  thrust  the  card  in 
a  waistcoat-pocket,  and  was  turning  silently 
away  when  Geordie  hailed  him,  a  ready  smile 
on  his  young  face. 

"I'll  trouble  you  for  the  card,"  said  he. 
"I  may  meet  other  conductors." 

Slowly  Cullin  fumbled  for  it,  twiddled  it 
between  his  fingers,  and  finally,  half  re 
luctant,  restored  it.  At  that  instant,  faint, 
distant,  but  distinct,  came  the  sound  of  the 
whistle  of  the  belated  No.  4.  "That's  for 
Spearman's  now,"  thought  Geordie,  but  so 
tense  had  been  the  scene  that  for  a  moment 
no  man  spoke. 

Then  Toomey  gave  tongue. 

"  She'll  go  by  here  kiting,"  said  he.  " Ten 
miles  down-grade  and  a  two-mile  straight 
away  from  Cimarron  Bend,  out  yonder." 
Again  the  whistle,  and  nearer.  "That's  for 
the  crossing  at  the  creek.  By  gad,  she's  just 
jumping!  Hang  onto  your  hair  when  you 
see  her  head-light  and  scramble  for  the  cab." 

Another  whistle,  two  short  blasts  and  a 
long.  Nearer  still,  yet  still  out  of  sight; 
and  then  presently  there  shot  into  view,  over 
73 


TO    THE    FRONT 

a  mile  away  to  the  west,  even  though  the 
gray  light  of  the  summer's  dawn  now  over 
spread  the  landscape,  the  glare  of  a  head 
light.  It  was  No.  4  coming  full  tilt. 

And  then — surprise!  From  steam -drum 
and  'scape-valve  jetted  clouds  of  flat-driven 
steam.  No.  4  had  suddenly  "shut  off,"  and 
was  now  coasting  downhill  like  a  huge  to 
boggan. 

Another  blast  came  from  the  whistle. 
"By  Jove,  she's  going  to  stop!"  said  Cullin. 
"What  on  earth's  the  meaning  of  that?" 

With  prodigious  shriek  and  roar  of  steam, 
with  clinching,  crunching  air-brakes  on  the 
glistening  tires,  with  sparks  flying  from  the 
whirring  wheels  and  signal-lanterns  swinging 
at  the  side,  No.  4  came  rushing  in.  As  the 
baggage  -  car  shot  by,  a  little  group  of  men 
stood  by  the  doorway  about  a  recumbent 
figure,  and  the  conductor  whisked  up  his 
lantern  and  started  after  it.  When  nearly 
opposite  the  caboose  the  big  train  settled 
to  a  stop.  Four  pairs  of  strong  arms  lifted 
the  prostrate  figure  from  one  car  to  the  other. 
There  were  brief,  hurried  words.  A  lantern 
74 


TO    THE    FRONT 

waved ;  the  whistle  sounded  two  quick  blasts ; 
No.  4  slowly  started,  quickly  gained  speed, 
and,  almost  as  quickly  as  it  came,  was  steam 
ing  away  for  Buffalo  Butte,  its  pale  lamps 
gleaming  dimly  in  the  gathering  light.  The 
conductor  came  running  forward. 

"Pull  out  for  Argenta,  Ben!"  he  shouted. 
"  Say,  young  feller,  drop  shovelling  and  come 
back.  I've  got  nobody  to  help  me,  and  here 
No.  4's  loaded  me  with  a  half-dead  man  to 
be  taken  home.  There's  a  row  at  the  mines. 
Every  man  is  out  from  Silver  Shield!" 


CHAPTER  VI 

FIRST    AID   TO    THE    WOUNDED 

O  LOWLY,  jerkily,  the  Time  Freight  began 
O  to  gather  headway  as  the  big  Mogul 
pulled,  hissing  loudly,  from  the  siding  to 
the  main  track,  the  ugly  brown  cars  wind 
ing  grudgingly  after.  This  was  before  the 
days  of  mile -long  freight  -  trains  with  air 
brakes  and  patent  couplers.  Over  the  grades 
of  the  Transcontinental  no  engine  yet  had 
pulled  more  than  twenty  "empties."  There 
was  ever  the  danger  of  breaking  in  two. 
In  the  dim  interior  of  the  caboose  the  con 
ductor,  with  Geordie  Graham  by  his  side,  was 
bending  over  a  battered  and  dishevelled  form. 
As  the  rear  trucks  went  clicking  over  the 
switch-points,  the  former  sprang  to  the  open 
doorway  to  see  that  his  brakeman  reset  and 
locked  the  switch,  and  with  a  swift  run  over 
took  the  caboose  and  swung  himself  aboard. 
76 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"I'll  be  up  in  a  minute,  Andy,"  cried 
Cullin  to  his  aid,  already  scrambling  up  the 
iron  ladder  for  his  station  on  the  roof.  "This 
poor  devil's  battered  into  pulp  and  I  can't 
leave  him."  And  again  he  was  by  Gra 
ham's  side — Graham  who,  kneeling  now  and 
sponging  with  cold  water  the  bruised,  hacked, 
disfigured  face  of  the  senseless  victim,  had 
made  a  startling  discovery. 

Here,  with  his  clothing  ripped,  torn,  and 
covered  with  dirt  and  blood,  with  one  arm 
obviously  broken  and  his  head  beaten, 
kicked,  and  cruelly  gashed — here,  beyond  a 
doubt,  lay  the  man  who  nearly  five  years 
earlier  had  been  the  one  obstacle  between 
him  and  the  goal  of  his  ambition,  the  cadet- 
ship  at  West  Point;  here  lay  the  son  of  the 
man  probably  most  prominent  in  the  con 
spiracy  against  the  absent  shareholders  of 
Silver  Shield;  here,  in  fine,  lay  the  almost 
lifeless  body  of  the  youth  he  had  seen  spying 
upon  their  arrival  at  Denver — young  Brei- 
fogle  himself. 

By  this  time  the  Mogul  was  grinding  her 
way  up  the  track,  in  determined  effort  to  land 
77 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  Time  Freight  in  the  yards  at  Argenta 
before  the  whistle  blew  for  seven  o'clock. 
It  was  a  twelve -mile  pull  up-grade,  every 
inch  of  the  way  —  twisting,  turning,  and 
tunnelling,  as  has  been  said — and  the  caboose 
reeled  and  swayed  from  side  to  side  as  it 
rounded  the  reverse  curves  and  swung  at  the 
tail  of  the  train.  Cullin,  lantern  in  hand, 
had  climbed  to  his  seat  in  the  lookout. 

"I've  got  to  be  up  here,"  he  explained, 
"till  we  are  through  the  tunnels.  Do  what 
you  can.  I  suppose  sponging  is  all  we  can 
do." 

Graham  nodded.  He  had  stripped  the 
leather-covered  cushion  from  the  conductor's 
chair,  and  with  this  and  a  rolled  coat  made  a 
support  for  the  senseless  head.  He  had  a 
fire -bucket  of  cold  water,  and  even  as  he 
plied  the  wet  sponge  and  sought  to  stanch 
the  trickling  blood,  his  wits  were  at  work. 
The  men  on  No.  4  had  only  time  to  say  that 
four  miles  out  from  Argenta,  down  the  Run 
beyond  Narrow  Gauge  Junction,  their  whistle 
suddenly  shrieked,  the  air-brakes  were  set 
with  a  clamp  that  jolted  the  whole  train, 
78 


TO    THE    FRONT 

and  they  slowed  down  just  enough  not  to 
knock  into  flinders  a  hand-car  that  was  sailing 
ahead  of  them,  down-grade.  "  The  pilot  hit 
it  a  lick  that  tossed  it  into  the  ditch,"  No.  4*8 
crew  had  explained,  and  beside  it  they  had 
found — this. 

And  "this"  it  was  now  Geordie's  task  and 
duty  to  keep  alive  until  they  could  turn  it 
over  to  competent  hands  at  Argenta.  "  This," 
which  others  failed  to  know,  he  had  rec 
ognized.  "This"  it  was  for  him  to  make 
known,  yet  in  so  doing  he  might  betray  him 
self  and  the  purpose  of  his  coming,  and  so 
undo  every  hope  and  plan  he  had  made. 
There  was  no  Toomey  to  help  him  now — no 
devoted  ex-trooper  and  friend  to  back  him. 
Engineer,  fireman,  conductor,  and  brakemen, 
every  man  of  the  crew  had  to  be  at  his  post 
as  the  freight  panted  away  up  the  wind 
ing  mountain  road.  The  crew  of  No.  4  had 
searched  the  pockets  in  vain  for  a  clew  as  to 
the  injured  man's  identity.  Everything  was 
gone.  His  assailants  had  seen  to  that.  Not 
a  scrap  had  been  found  that  could  account  for 
him.  Even  the  shirt  "tab"  bore  no  initials; 
79 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  watch-pocket  of  the  trousers  bore  no 
name.  The  garments  had  been  purchased 
ready-made  and  gave  no  sign. 

Then  there  was  another  matter  to  be 
considered.  Badly  as  he  was  battered  and 
bruised,  the  man  was  not  dying.  Graham 
knew  how  to  test  the  pulse,  and  its  strength 
told  him  not  to  fear.  The  chances  were  that 
his  patient  would  return  to  consciousness  be 
fore  very  long.  Then  recognition  of  his  grimy 
attendant  would  probably  follow.  Breifogle 
was  no  fool,  as  Graham  remembered,  and  a 
fireman's  black  cap  and  sooty  shirt  and  over 
alls  would  be  but  scant  disguise. 

And  to  carry  out  his  plan  it  was  essential 
that  he  should  pass  through  Argenta,  reach 
Hatch's  Cove  and  eventually  the  Silver 
Shield  mine,  and  reach  this  latter  unknown 
and  unsuspected.  Toomey  and  he  had  hit 
on  a  plan — once  Toomey  could  succeed  in 
getting  word  to  Nolan.  But  that,  reasoned 
Geordie,  might  be  impossible  now  in  view 
of  this  new  complication — serious  trouble  at 
the  mines,  and  "every  man  out  at  Silver 
Shield." 

80 


TO    THE    FRONT 

If  only  he  could  see  Toomey  again  for  a 
moment!  That  was  impossible.  Toomey's 
every  muscle  was  needed  to  keep  that  fiery 
and  insatiable  monster  fed  with  fuel  every 
rod  of  the  way  to  Argenta.  There  was  no 
intermediate  stop.  There  could  be  no  sig 
nals —  no  sending  of  a  message.  Half  the 
distance  had  they  gone,  panting  and  strain 
ing,  barely  fifteen  miles  to  the  hour.  Broad 
daylight,  and  then  the  rejoicing  sunshine, 
had  come  to  cheer  and  gladden  and  revive, 
and  Cullin  shouted  inquiry,  as  he  bent  down 
from  his  perch,  and  Graham  nodded  or  shook 
his  head  by  way  of  reply.  Swiftly  and 
scientifically  he  kept  up  the  play  of  the 
sponges ;  shook  his  head  to  Cullin's  suggestion 
of  a  little  more  whiskey — the  frontier's  "  first 
aid"  for  every  kind  of  mishap.  The  pulse 
said  there  was  no  further  need  of  it,  at  the 
moment  at  least.  And  then,  as  they  rum 
bled  over  some  resounding  bridge-work  and 
crossed  the  swift  and  foaming  Run,  the  train 
crept  under  the  shadow  of  the  cliff  and 
stretched  away  over  a  bit  of  open,  undulating 
grassland,  and  then  the  racket  ceased  for  a 
81 


TO    THE    FRONT 

while  and  it  was  possible,  by  bending  down, 
to  catch  the  patient's  breathing. 

And  it  gave  Geordie  an  idea. 

The  poor,  bruised  head  was  turning  in 
restless  pain ;  the  puffed  and  swollen  lips  were 
moving;  the  still  unconscious  man  was  mut 
tering.  Not  a  word  could  Geordie  distin 
guish.  It  was  all  guesswork.  But,  glancing 
up  at  Cullin,  he  called :  "He's  trying  to  talk. 
Perhaps  I  can  get  his  name,"  and  again  in 
clined  his  ear  and  bent  down  over  the  luck 
less  fellow's  face.  "Yes,"  he  said,  loudly, 
so  that  Cullin  could  hear — "yes,  I  under 
stand.  .  .  .  Don't  worry.  .  .  .  You're  with 
friends.  .  .  .  Tell  us  your  name  and  home.  .  . 
What?  Try  once  again.  .  .  .  Bry — what? 
Oh,  Breifogle?  .  .  .  Yes.  Argenta?  That's 
just  where  we're  going.  We'll  be  there  very 
soon.  Don't  try  to  talk  more  now."  And 
again  the  sponge  was  busily  plied,  and  then 
the  grimy  nurse  glanced  upward  at  Cullin, 
now  shinning  down  from  his  perch  in  the 
skylight.  "His  home's  right  ahead  at  Ar 
genta.  Breif ogle's  the  name." 

"Breifogle!"  shouted  Cullin,  aghast. 
82 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"Why,  that's  the  big  brewer,  banker,  mine- 
owner,  and  Lord  knows  what  all — that  owns 
half  of  Yampah  County  and  wants  to  own 
the  rest.  Could  he  tell  who  slugged  him? 
Does  he  know  anything  about  it?  Ask  him." 

Obediently  Geordie  put  the  question,  but 
no  answer  came.  "  Seems  to  have  wandered 
off,"  he  said.  "  Perhaps  we'd  be  wise  to  worry 
him  with  no  more  questions.  If  he's  what 
you  say,  they'll  be  looking  everywhere  for  him. 
When  did  the  men  at  Silver  Shield  go  out?" 

"Yesterday  morning  at  ten  o'clock,"  so 
they  said  on  No.  4.  There  was  a  pack  of  'em 
come  down  to  Argenta  to  get  to  the  owners, 
they  said.  By  gad,  they  seem  to  have  got 
at  one  of  'em!" 

A  moan  from  the  sufferer  was  the  only  an 
swer.  Graham  shook  his  head.  "  How  soon 
can  you  make  it  ? "  he  asked.  ' '  The  sooner  this 
man's  in  expert  hands  the  better  'twill  be." 

"Twelve  minutes,"  said  Cullin,  with  a  snap 
of  his  silver  watch-lid.  "  You  seem  no  slouch 
of  a  handler  yourself.  Where'd  you  learn?" 

"  I  lived  with  a  doctor  awhile, "  was  the  quiet 
answer.  "  He  had  to  patch  men  up  occasion- 
83 


TO    THE    FRONT 

ally."  And  Geordie  could  barely  suppress  the 
grin  that  twitched  the  corners  of  his  mouth. 
How  strangely  already  his  adventure  was  far 
ing!  "  I  suppose  after  hammering  him  sense 
less  they  set  him  adrift  on  that  hand-car, 
hoping  it  would  finish  him  and  hide  their 
crime,"  he  hazarded. 

"Looks  like  it,"  was  Cullin's  short  answer 
as  once  more  he  climbed  to  his  station. 

Ten  minutes  later  they  were  slowly 
trundling  in  among  a  maze  of  tracks  and 
sidings,  with  long  trains  of  gondolas,  coal- 
cars,  and  dingy-brown  freight-boxes  on  both 
sides.  Cullin  was  shouting  to  invisible  switch 
men,  and  presently  the  train  came  bumping 
to  a  stand.  Another  minute  and  two  or 
three  early  birds  among  the  yardmen  were 
climbing  aboard  and  curiously,  excitedly, 
peering  over  Geordie's  head.  He  never 
looked  up.  Calmly  he  continued  his  spong 
ing.  Then  Cullin's  voice  was  heard  again. 
A  stretcher  was  thrust  in  at  the  rear  door. 
Three  or  four  men,  roughly  dressed,  but 
with  sorrow  and  sympathy  in  their  care 
worn  faces,  bent  over  the  prostrate  body. 
84 


"  BIG     BEN     WAS     BUSY     WITH     HIS    OIL-CAN 


: 


TO    THE    FRONT 

They  seemed  to  look  to  Graham  for  instruc 
tions. 

"You  know  where  to  take  him?"  he  asked. 
"All  right,  then,  I'll  leave  him  with  you." 
And  before  the  station-master  or  other  official 
could  come,  Graham  had  seen  his  patient 
transferred  to  the  stretcher,  borne  forth  into 
the  sunshine  and  away  to  the  passenger- 
room.  Then,  slipping  from  the  left  rear 
steps,  with  the  train  between  him  and  the 
building,  Geordie  sauntered,  softly  whistling, 
Up  to  the  front  again,  and  in  five  minutes  was 
helping  Toomey  at  the  cab. 

It  was  not  yet  seven.  Big  Ben  was  busy 
with  his  oil -can.  Three  cars  had  been  cut 
out  from  the  train  and  run  to  a  platform 
close  at  hand.  It  was  high  time  they  were 
off  again,  but  the  conductor  was  held  in  the 
office,  whither  he  had  gone  for  orders,  as  well 
as  to  report  concerning  their  unsought  pas 
senger.  Toomey  was  still  angered  against 
Cullin,  between  whom  and  himself  there 
was  ever  more  or  less  friction,  but  Geordie 
had  begun  to  take  a  fancy  to  him.  Cullin 
would  never  have  said  what  he  did  had  he 
85 


TO    THE    FRONT 

known  the  identity  of  Toomey's  pupil,  and 
Geordie  argued  that  Cullin's  gruff  and  in 
solent  greeting  was  in  reality  a  tribute 
to  his  powers  —  a  recognition  of  the  fact 
that  he  looked  the  part  he  was  trying  to 
play. 

With  so  very  much  at  stake  depending  on 
Graham's  remaining  unrecognized,  with  old 
Fort  Reynolds  only  six  miles  ahead,  and 
Silver  Shield  only  twenty -six  farther,  it 
would  be  foolish  to  become  involved  in  a 
squabble.  But  Toomey  had  been  nursing 
his  wrath.  Big  Ben  was  not  too  fond  of 
Cullin,  and  Geordie  found  that  they  were 
quite  bent  on  making  trouble  at  first  oppor 
tunity.  In  spite  of  the  early  hour  an  air 
of  excitement  pervaded  the  station.  Many 
men  were  idling  about  the  passenger  plat 
form,  and  here  and  there  little  groups  could 
be  seen  in  muttered  conversation.  There 
was  no  laughter,  no  light-hearted  chaff.  It 
was  noted  by  both  men  in  the  cab,  before 
Geordie  rejoined  them,  that  as  the  injured 
man  was  borne  on  his  stretcher  across  the 
yard  into  the  passenger  station,  these  groups 
86 


TO    THE    FRONT 

seemed   rather   to    edge    away   instead   of 
crowding  about  in  morbid  curiosity. 

No  need  to  ask  who  or  what  they  were. 
The  pallor  of  the  faces,  so  startling  in  con 
trast  to  the  healthy  tan  of  the  ranch  folk 
or  the  swarthy  grime  of  the  railway  men — the 
mud-splashed  boots  and  trousers  told  their 
tale.  They  were  miners  to  a  man,  and 
miners  in  ugly  mood. 

"The  town's  been  full  of  'em  since  noon 
yesterday,"  said  a  yardman  to  Ben,  in  answer 
to  his  question.  "They  are  here  to  see  the 
Silver  Shield  officers,  and  have  been  told 
they'd  be  up  from  Denver  on  No.  3.  They 
chased  old  Breifogle  out  of  his  office  yester 
day  afternoon,  and  he's  been  hiding  ever 
since.  Young  Breifogle  has  been  missing 
ever  since  yesterday  noon." 

"That's  him  on  the  stretcher,"  said  Big 
Ben,  gloomily,  for  the  news  was  already  fly 
ing  round.  "  Cullin  says  he's  about  done  for. 
This  young  feller  in  here  took  care  of  him 
all  the  way  up  from  Buffalo  Butte.  No. 
4  picked  him  up  down  the  gulch  and  put  him 
aboard  us  there." 
7  87 


TO    THE    FRONT 

A  long  whistle  was  the  only  comment.  At 
the  first  words  spoken  by  the  yardman,  a  quick 
glance  passed  between  the  two  young  men  on 
the  opposite,  the  fireman's,  side  of  the  cab. 
They  could  not  see  the  speaker,  but  they  knew 
the  voice.  It  was  that  of  a  former  trooper  of 
the  — th,  another  soldier  who  had  sought  to 
treble  his  savings  at  the  mines  and  had  lost  them 
all;  then,  too  proud  to  return  and  "take  on" 
again,  had  found  starvation-wages  at  Argenta. 

"  Stay  here,"  whispered  Toomey,  "  and  keep 
sittin'."  Then,  wiping  his  hands  on  a  wad  of 
waste,  and  with  an  affable  grin  on  his  face,  he 
swung  over  behind  Ben  and  leaned  out  of  the 
cab. 

"  Hullo,  Scotty !  Any  of  our  fellers  in  that 
outfit?" 

"Hullo,  Toomey!  None  of  'em  with  that 
gang,  but  there's  three  of  'em  came,  and  old 
Nolan's  head  of  the  whole  caboodle.  He's 
their  cap'  and  spokesman." 

"Nolan!  Nolan  here?"  cried  Toomey,  in 
great  excitement,  while  Geordie  felt  his  heart 
beating  hard. 

"  Nolan,  as  big  as  life  and  twice  as  wicked." 
88 


CHAPTER  VII 

A    BALKED    ARREST 

FOR  a  moment  Graham's  spirits  sank  like 
lead.  Nolan,  the  stanch  old  soldier  who 
had  been  his  foremost  trooper  friend  and 
guide,  was  the  man  of  all  others  on  whom 
he  pinned  his  faith,  on  whose  help  he  had 
relied,  and  upon  whose  loyalty  and  devo 
tion  he  was  ready  to  stake  his  every  hope 
of  success.  And  now — so  said  this  former 
soldier  and  comrade — now  Nolan  was  here  in 
Argenta,  instead  of  up  at  the  mines,  here 
with  a  mob  of  strikers,  their  leader  and 
spokesman,  chief  of  the  crew,  possibly,  that 
had  nearly  done  to  death  the  son  of  one  of 
the  principal  directors  of  Silver  Shield. 

That  Breifogle  was  his  father's  enemy, 
and  a  leading  spirit  in  the  plot  to  rob  him, 
Geordie  Graham  knew  full  well.  That  Brei 
fogle  the  younger  had  been  sent  to  Denver 


TO    THE    FRONT 

to  watch  for  the  coming  of  Dr.  Graham, 
McCrea,  or  others  of  the  officers,  all  of  whom 
he  knew  by  sight  and  name,  there  was  every 
reason  to  believe ;  but  that  Nolan  should  take 
part  in  or  countenance  the  mobbing  of  the 
Breifogles,  or  any  others  of  the  mine-owners, 
was  abhorrent,  if  not  impossible. 

Now  for  the  moment  Geordie  longed  for 
the  presence  of  McCrea,  who  had  remained 
in  Denver  in  hopes  of  bringing  local  officials 
to  their  senses  and  his  terms.  And  McCrea, 
for  his  part,  was  at  the  same  moment  wishing 
to  Heaven  he  had  followed  Geordie's  lead 
and  pushed  ahead  for  the  field  of  battle. 
The  Denverite  members  of  the  board,  warned 
of  his  presence,  had  easily  managed  to  elude 
him,  and  with  others  were  now  on  their 
way  to  Argenta  for  a  special  meeting,  while 
McCrea  was  still  held  at  a  distance,  lured  by 
an  appointment  for  a  conference  to  come  off 
that  very  morning  at  eleven,  long  three  hours 
after  the  other  conferees  had  vanished  from 
town. 

But  no  older  head  was  there  to  advise. 
Graham  alone,  representing  the  aggrieved 
90 


TO    THE    FRONT 

shareholders,  was  at  the  scene  of  action.  He 
could  take  counsel  with  no  man  on  the 
ground.  Win  or  lose  he  must  decide  and 
act  for  himself.  Here  he  sat  in  the  cab  of  the 
Mogul,  impatient  only  five  minutes  back  to 
push  ahead  for  the  mines,  to  get  away  with 
out  recognition.  Now  it  might  well  be  that 
the  point  at  which  to  act  was  right  here  in 
town. 

"The  mine  is  being  operated  at  heavy 
expense  and  loss,"  had  been  the  latest  wail 
from  the  secretary.  "  There  is  not  ore 
enough  in  sight  to  begin  to  pay  the  wages  of 
the  men.  Yet  every  test  convinces  us  that 
abundant  results  must  follow  further  develop 
ment."  Another  assessment,  therefore,  on 
top  of  all  previous  levies,  had  been  the  im 
perative  demand.  Geordie  did  not  know  it, 
but  that  pound  was  the  last  that  broke  the 
hold  of  three.  They  had  sold  their  stock  for 
what  it  would  bring,  and  Breifogle  and  his 
clique  were  laughing  in  their  sleeves.  They 
knew  there  was  ore  in  abundance,  both  in 
sight  and  touch.  Geordie  and  McCrea  be 
lieved  it,  and  believed  that  if  the  one  could 


TO    THE    FRONT 

establish  the  fact,  and  the  other  could  bring 
the  directors  to  book  with  proof  of  foul  meas 
ures  to  squeeze  out  the  small  shareholders, 
victory  would  be  in  their  hands. 

But  what  was  to  be  done  now?  By  this 
time  the  fact  that  young  Breifogle  had  been 
fearfully  beaten  must  be  known  to  every 
man  about  the  station,  and  was  swiftly 
racing  to  the  opening  doors  of  every  shop, 
office,  and  homestead  in  town.  By  this  act 
the  miners  had  destroyed  every  hope  of  sym 
pathy,  or  even,  possibly,  of  justice.  What 
ever  their  grievance  it  could  not  warrant 
murder.  But  what  was  their  grievance? 
What  could  have  precipitated  trouble  at  the 
mines  and  a  wholesale  walkout  at  Silver 
Shield?  What  could  have  brought  the 
miners,  nearly  a  hundred  strong,  here  to  Ar 
gent  a,  with  Nolan  at  their  head — Nolan,  who 
had  been  the  company's  faithful  servant,  the 
best  manager  of  men,  the  most  level-headed 
and  reliable  "boss"  at  the  Silver  Shield? 

Toomey's  friend   had   hurried   away,   for 
sound  of  increasing  excitement  came  from 
the  groups,  now  merging  into  one,  about  the 
92 


TO    THE    FRONT 

telegraph  office.  Big  Ben  swung  himself  out 
of  the  cab  once  more,  and  with  arms  akimbo 
stood  watching  the  distant  gathering,  wishing 
Cullin  would  come  with  orders  or  else  with  ex 
planation  of  the  delay.  This  left  Graham  and 
Toomey  alone  in  the  cab,  and  Toomey's  first 
question  was,  "What  can  you  do  now,  sir?" 

"Find  Nolan,"  was  the  brief  answer,  "and 
get  to  the  bottom  of  this.'* 

"Orders  may  come  any  minute,"  said 
Toomey,  looking  anxiously  over  his  shoulder. 
"  We'll  have  to  pull  out  and  go  ahead.  You 
couldn't — stay  here  at  Argenta,  could  you?" 

"I  may  have  to.     Here's  Cullin  now." 

"But  no  orders,"  said  Toomey,  with  a 
gasp  of  relief,  for  from  far  over  the  tracks, 
catching  sight  of  his  watchful  engineer, 
Cullin  had  waved  his  hand,  palm  towards 
them,  twice  to  and  fro,  a  gesture  so  like  the 
Indian  sign  "No  go"  that  Geordie  knew  its 
meaning  at  a  glance.  Silently  they  awaited 
his  coming  and  listened,  breathless,  for  his 
tidings  when  he  came. 

"What's  the  row  about?"  asked  Ben,  as 
Cullin  reached  them,  breathing  hard, 
93 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"Why,  about  their  boss,  it  seems.  The 
company  gave  him  the  bounce  yesterday, 
and  ordered  him  off  the  premises.  He  de 
manded  fair  play  and  a  hearing,  and  then 
young  Breifogle,  who  had  gone  up  with  the 
order  for  his  discharge,  began  abusing  him. 
Nolan — that's  the  man's  name — called  him 
down,  and  then  Breifogle  broke  loose  and 
cursed  him,  called  him  traitor  and  all  manner 
of  names,  and  ordered  some  of  his  men  to 
throw  him  out.  They  did  it,  too,  and 
brought  on  a  fight.  Breifogle  and  his  friends 
were  armed  and  the  men  were  not.  They 
shot  two  miners,  arrested  the  'ringleaders,' 
as  they  called  'em,  and  locked  'em  up.  Then 
the  men  quit  the  mine  and  laid  for  Breifogle 
when  he  tried  to  get  out.  He  hired  a  rig 
and  drove  t'other  way,  out  to  Miners'  Joy, 
slid  out  on  the  Narrow  Gauge  last  night, 
and  there  was  a  dozen  of  'em  headed  him  off 
down  at  the  Junction.  Nolan  and  his  crowd 
had  come  down  here  to  see  the  directors  and 
get  their  rights.  Of  course  some  of  them 
did  it,  and  there  you  are!" 

"Where's  Nolan  now?"  asked  Toomey. 
94 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"Where  is  he?  Over  at  the  company's 
office  waiting  for  the  directors,  when  he 
ought  to  be  making  tracks  for  Mexico. " 

Graham's  heart  had  been  beating  harder 
with  every  word.  It  bounded  with  wrath  as 
he  listened  to  this,  yet  listened  in  silence  and 
stern  self-control.  But  Toomey  got  a  dig  in 
the  ribs  that  plainly  said,  "Make  him  say 
why." 

"'Twouldn't  be  like  Long  Nolan  to  be 
skipping  when  he's  needed  by  his  friends," 
growled  Toomey.  "  He's  no  quitter,  if  he  was 
at  Powder  River,"  whereby  it  was  Cullin's 
turn  to  get  a  dig,  and  little  did  he  relish  it. 

"That's  another  I  owe  you,  Toomey," 
said  he,  "  and  we'll  settle  it  by-and-by.  Just 
now  I'm  thinking  for  your  friend,  if  you  are 
not.  I  knew  him  before  ever  you  did,  and 
would  go  ten  miles  to  your  one  to  help  him. 
What  you  haven't  sense  enough  to  see  is, 
that  it  won't  be  an  hour  before  the  sheriff's 
after  him  with  a  warrant,  and  if  Breifogle 
dies  he'll  swing,  sure  as  death.  He  was 
raving  when  they  threw  him  out  of  the  gate, 
and  swore  he  would  get  even  with  Breifogle, 
95 


TO    THE    FRONT 

and  when  it  comes  to  trial  there'll  be  a  dozen 
witnesses  to  swear  that  he  did.  What  kind 
of  a  trial  do  you  think  he'd  have  here  at 
Argenta,  with  half  the  town  owned  by 
Breifogle  &  Co.?" 

This  was,  indeed,  putting  a  new  face  on  it, 
and  still  Graham  listened  in  silence,  trying  to 
control  the  quiver  and  tingle  of  his  nerves. 

There  came  a  sudden  call  from  the  office. 
Shoving  his  way  through  the  little  mass  of 
miners  on  the  platform,  the  station  -  agent 
stepped  to  the  edge  and  waved  a  hand  to 
Cullin,  but  the  hand  was  empty.  The  re 
lease  order  had  not  come.  The  big  Mogul 
and  the  freight  were  still  held,  and  now  it 
was  much  after  seven,  and  Argenta  all  astir. 
Cullin  turned  doggedly  away.  He  seemed 
to  know  what  was  coming  and  did  not  half 
like  it.  Leaping  down  from  the  platform 
and  striding  over  the  cinder-blackened  ties, 
the  agent  met  him  before  he  crossed  the 
second  track — met  him  and  spoke  in  tone  so 
low  even  Big  Ben  could  not  hear.  All  three 
men  at  the  cab,  they  could  not  help  it,  were 
listening  eagerly.  It  was  easy  to  see,  how- 
96 


TO    THE    FRONT 

ever,  that  the  station-master  was  seeking 
information  Cullin  could  not  or  dared  not 
give.  Every  gesture,  the  upheaved  shoulders, 
the  sideward  droop  of  the  head,  the  forward 
toss  of  the  hands,  palms  to  the  front,  all  as 
much  as  said,  "  Don't  ask  me."  Then  the 
agent  turned  slowly  away,  walked  a  dozen 
steps,  looked  back,  and  called: 

"I'll  tell  'em  what  you  say,  but  you'd 
better  come  yourself.  Narrow  Gauge  '11  get 
'the  Old  Man'  on  the  wire  presently,  then 
you'll  have  to.  I'm  betting  they  hold  you 
here  till  you  do." 

"Not  if  I  know  myself  or — my  orders," 
growled  Cullin,  as  he  returned,  black-browed, 
to  the  cab. 

"What's  up?"  asked  Big  Ben,  presently, 
seeing  that  the  conductor  waited  to  be 
asked. 

"Why,  those  Narrow  Gauge  fellows — 
they're  owned  here,  you  know — claim  that  two 
of.  their  men  were  shot  by  the  same  gang  that 
did  up  Breifogle.  They're  wiring  both  ways 
from  the  Junction,  up  here  for  sheriff  and 
detectives,  and  down  to  the  Springs  for  Bob 
97 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Anthony.  They  say  No.  4  and  I  both  know 
things  about  the  slugging  we  haven't  told. 
They  say  No.  4  took  three  of  the  sluggers 
away,  and  that  we're  hiding  some  to  take  up 
into  the  mountains  and  turn  'em  loose  where 
they'll  be  safe.  The  only  man  with  us  is — 
this  kid,"  and  Cullin  looked  up  darkly  into 
the  cab,  his  gloomy  eyes  on  Geordie's  coal- 
blackened  face. 

Now,  indeed,  it  was  time  for  action,  and, 
quietly  as  he  could,  Geordie  put  the  question: 

"  Did  you  tell  them  you  had  a  stranger  in 
the  cab?" 

"Told  'em  you  were  the  only  thing — or 
kind—I  had." 

"  But  you  told  them  I'd  come  all  the  way 
with  you  from  Chimney  Switch,  did  you 
not?" 

"  I  didn't  tell  'em  anything  except  what  I 
said  to  Folder  here — the  station-master.  I 
told  'em,  through  him,  if  they  wanted  any 
thing  on  this  train  they  needn't  ask  me.  I 
wasn't  responsible." 

Graham  and  Toomey  exchanged  quick 
glances.  A  wretched  end  would  it  be  to  all 
98 


TO    THE    FRONT 

their  planning  if  Geordie  should  now  be 
dragged  off  the  cab  as  accessory  to  the  as 
sault  on  young  Breifogle,  his  helpless  charge 
and  patient  of  the  early  morning  hours. 

Yet  that  was  just  what  now  was  likely  to 
happen.  Resentful  of  there  being  a  mystery 
about  the  cab,  a  secret  he  was  not  allowed  to 
share — an  outsider  made  known  by  Cullin's 
superiors  to  Cullin's  subordinates,  yet  not 
presented  to  him — true  to  human  nature 
Cullin  had  told  what  Geordie  would  conceal. 
In  less  than  no  time  the  enemy  would  know 
705  had  brought  a  stranger  within  their  gates 
who  was  too  wary  to  come  by  passenger- 
train.  In  less  than  ten  minutes  they  might 
be  there  with  a  warrant  for  his  arrest. 

And  at  that  very  moment  there  went  up  a 
shout  from  the  group  of  miners  at  the  office. 
One  of  their  kind  had  come  running  in,  breath 
less  and  alarmed.  Three  or  four  words  only 
had  he  spoken,  but  they  were  enough.  As 
one  man  the  twoscore  turned  and  ran  for  the 
broad  street  beyond  the  passenger  station, 
were  swallowed  up  in  the  gap  between  the 
express  and  baggage  sheds  and  the  passenger 
99 


TO    THE    FRONT 

waiting-rooms,  and  could  be  heard  shouting 
loudly  beyond  the  high  board  fence — a  chorus 
of  cheers  that  seemed  to  start  near  the  main 
entrance  and  went  travelling  on  the  wings  of 
the  wind  westward  up  the  lively  street. 

And  a  moment  later,  even  while  they  were 
wondering,  out  came  "Folder  here,"  the 
agent — this  time  paper  in  hand  and  waving 
for  Gullin.  "  Orders  at  last,"  said  Cullin,  and 
sprang  to  get  them.  And  this  time  both 
Graham  and  Toomey  swung  from  the  cab 
and  eagerly  followed.  "Warrant  out  for 
Nolan!"  they  heard  Folder  say,  "but  they'll 
not  get  him  here.  The  gang  has  whisked 
him  away  to  the  Fort  and  beyond,  I  reckon ; 
and  the  sheriff  who  goes  to  Silver  Shield 
takes  his  life  in  his  hands."  Then  his  eyes 
fell  on  the  two  firemen.  "One  of  yon's 
wanted,"  he  added,  "but  I  don't  know  which, 
and  they're  coming  now." 

He  pointed  down  the  yard  toward  the  east 
entrance.  Almost  on  the  run,  two  men  came 
hurrying  in.  Toomey  grabbed  Geordie's 
sleeve.  "They  sha'n't  have  you  here,  any 
how.  Jump  for  the  cab."  And  jump  they 

100 


TO    THE    FRONT  v;; 

did,  all  three.  Moved  now  by  some  indefin 
able  sympathy  he  had  not  felt  before,  Cullin 
urged  them  on,  and  thrust  the  order  into 
Big  Ben's  hairy  fist  as  it  swung  from  the 
window.  Ben  gave  one  glance,  his  left  hand 
grasping  the  lever;  Toomey  made  a  flying 
leap  for  the  bell -cord;  Geordie  scrambled 
in  after;  hiss  went  the  steam-cocks;  clang 
went  the  bell,  and  with  an  explosive  cough 
that  shook  her  big  frame  almost  free  of  the 
rails  the  Mogul  heaved  slowly  ahead.  The 
shortened  "Time  Freight"  picked  up  its 
heels  and  came  jerkily  after,  and  with  her 
ponderous  drivers  rolling  swifter  and  swifter, 
and  the  heavy  panting  speedily  changing  to 
short,  quick,  and  quickening  puffs,  faster  and 
faster  big  705  swung  clear  of  the  switch- 
points,  smoothly  rounded  to  the  main  line, 
and  with  its  dozen  brown  chickens  following 
close,  Indian  file,  after  the  fussy  old  hen  in 
the  lead,  away  went  the  fast  freight,  flaunting 
its  green  flags  at  the  rear  in  the  face  of  the 
pursuit,  and  the  deputies  drew  up  disgusted 
at  the  edge  of  the  yard,  their  signals  and  their 
shouts  unheeded. 

101 


CHAPTER  VIII 

A   RACE    TO   THE   FORT 

THREE  miles  out  and  the  Mogul's  six 
drivers  were  spinning  like  so  many 
tops.  Flat  along  the  grimy  roofs  of  the 
heaving  freight-cars  behind,  the  cloud  of  coal 
smoke  from  her  stunted  chimney  fled  rear 
ward  until  clear  of  the  train,  then  drifted 
idly  across  the  rolling  uplands.  Ahead  and 
to  right  and  left,  distant,  snow-capped  sum 
mits  barred  the  sky-line.  On  either  side  the 
gray-green  slopes,  bare  and  treeless,  billowed 
away,  higher  and  higher  toward  the  range, 
with  here  and  there  a  bunch  of  fattening 
cattle  gazing  stupidly  at  the  invaders  of  their 
peace  and  quietude.  Close  at  hand  to  the 
left  the  murky  waters  of  the  stream  flashed 
quickly  by.  Close  at  hand  to  the  right  the 
hard-beaten  prairie  road  meandered  over  the 
sod.  There  had  been  a  ridge  or  two  and 

102 


"  NOT    A    WHIFF    OF    THE    DRAUGHT    COULD    BE    WASTED 


•     . 


TO    THE    FRONT 

some  sharp  curves  just  west  of  town,  and 
now,  as  they  rounded  the  last  of  these  and 
flew  out  upon  an  almost  level  track,  the 
bottom  of  some  prehistoric  mountain  lake, 
the  eyes  of  two  of  the  three  silent  occupants 
of  the  cab  were  strained  along  the  gleaming 
rails  ahead,  and  almost  at  the  same  instant 
the  same  thought  sprang  to  the  lips  of  each — 
Big  Ben,  with  his  left  hand  at  the  throttle, 
hunched  up  on  his  shelf,  his  cap  pulled  down 
over  the  bushy  brows,  and  Geordie,  across 
the  cab  on  the  fireman's  seat,  clinging  to  the 
window-frame  to  withstand  the  lurching  of 
the  throbbing  monster,  while  between  them, 
on  the  coal-blackened  floor,  Toomey,  with  his 
big  shovel  flinging  open  the  iron  gate  to  the 
blazing  furnace  for  every  new  mouthful  he  fed 
it,  and  snapping  it  shut  when  he  turned  away 
for  another,  for  not  a  whiff  of  the  draught  could 
be  wasted.  Once  past  the  deserted  station  at 
the  Fort  there  would  come  eight  miles  of  twist 
ing  and  turning  and  struggling  up-grade,  and 
every  pound  of  steam  would  be  needed  to 
pull  even  this  baker's  dozen  of  heavily  laden 
cars  now  thundering  merrily  along  behind. 
a  103 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Only  two  short,  smooth  miles  ahead  lay 
the  low  ridge  that  formed  the  eastern  boun 
dary  of  the  old  reservation.  Beyond  it,  on 
the  broad  mesa,  stood  the  buildings  of  the 
frontier  garrison,  once  Geordie's  home  and 
refuge.  The  tall  flag-staff  came  suddenly 
into  view,  and  in  less  than  four  minutes  they 
would  be  rushing  by.  Over  forty  miles  to 
the  hour  were  they  flying  now.  Big  Ben 
had  just  let  out  another  notch  as  they  swung 
into  the  two-mile  tangent,  when  at  the  same 
instant  he  and  Geordie  caught  sight  of  three 
or  four  black  dots  dimly  bobbing  in  the  midst 
of  a  little  dust -cloud  on  the  roadway  far 
ahead,  and  almost  at  the  same  instant  came 
from  each  the  low  cry,  ''There  they  are!" 

Toomey  dropped  his  shovel  and  glanced 
forward  over  Ben's  burly  shoulder,  then, 
grabbing  the  vertical  handrails  on  cab  and 
tender,  leaned  out  and  gazed  astern.  The 
wagon  road  twisted  over  the  bleak  "divide" 
the  train  had  just  rounded,  and,  barring  a 
team  or  two  jogging  slowly  into  town,  was 
bare  of  traffic.  "No  chasers  so  far,"  he 
shouted,  as  he  again  stooped  to  his  tools. 
104 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"No  chasers  but  us  could  catch  'em," 
growled  Ben.  "  We'll  give  'em  a  toot  of  the 
whistle!"  he  shouted  across  to  Geordie,  and 
the  steam  blast  shrieked  through  the  keen 
morning  air  in  obedience  to  the  quick  pull 
at  the  cord. 

And  now  705  was  fairly  flying,  the  green 
flags  at  the  rear  flattened  like  shingles  in 
the  whistling  wind,  and  a  cloud  of  mingled 
dust  and  smoke  rolling  furiously  after  the 
caboose.  Big  Ben  had  "pulled  her  wide 
open,"  and  under  full  head  of  steam  the  pow 
erful  engine  tore  like  a  black  meteor  up  the 
glistening  track.  In  eagerness  and  excite 
ment  almost  uncontrollable  George  Graham 
clung  to  his  perch  and  gazed  with  all  his  eyes. 
Barely  a  mile  ahead  now  spurred  the  fugi 
tives,  his  old  friend  Nolan  in  their  midst — 
Nolan  whom  he  had  come  all  those  miles  to 
see! 

And  then  a  strange  thing  happened.  So 
far  from  finding  reassurance,  friendship,  sym 
pathy  in  the  whistle  blast,  the  riders  had  read 
the  very  opposite.  So  far  from  slackening 
speed  and  letting  the  signalling  train  come 
105 


TO    THE    FRONT 

up  on  them,  they  had  suddenly  veered  to  the 
left,  the  south,  and,  bending  low  like  jockies 
over  their  coursers'  manes,  they  shot  across 
the  track,  dived  down  into  the  pebbly  bottom, 
and  the  next  thing  Geordie  saw  they  were 
plunging  breast-deep  through  the  brown  and 
heaving  torrent,  the  waters  foaming  at  their 
knees. 

"Might  'a'  known  it!"  bellowed  Toomey, 
disgusted.  "  'Course  they  reason  we've  got 
the  sheriff  and  posse  aboard,  and  they're  tak 
ing  the  short-cut  to  the — you  know,"  he  said, 
with  a  sudden  significant  gulp,  to  Geordie, 
and  a  warning  glance  at  Ben.  Even  now 
that  he  had  left  the  trooper  habits  months 
behind,  Toomey  could  not  forget  or  disregard 
trooper  ethics.  Ben  might  be  friendly  to 
Nolan,  just  as  he  claimed,  but — would  Ben 
keep  other's  secrets? 

And  even  under  his  coat  of  coal  and  tan 
Geor die's  face  blazed  suddenly.  As  a  lad 
whom  the  troopers  knew  and  loved  and 
trusted,  he  could  not  help  knowing  in  by-gone 
days  of  the  ranch  just  south  of  the  post — 
''Saints'  Rest,"  they  called  it,  laughingly— 
1 06 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  shack  owned  and  occupied  by  an  old 
soldier  with  a  numerous  family:  the  ren 
dezvous  for  many  a  revel,  the  resting-place  of 
many  a  hunting-party,  the  refuge  of  many  a 
home-bound  squad  of  "the  boys,"  before  the 
days  of  the  canteen  that  brought  comfort 
and  temperance  into  the  army  for  the  short 
but  blessed  spell  of  its  existence — boys  just 
back  from  an  unhallowed  frolic  in  town,  and 
not  yet  sober  enough  to  face  their  first  ser 
geant  and  "the  Old  Man"  at  the  orderly 
room.  Oh,  wonderful  things  were  told  of  old 
Shiner  and  his  ranch!  In  the  eyes  of  some 
straitlaced  commanders  he  had  been  little 
better  than  a  receiver  of  stolen  goods,  a  sol 
dier  Shylock  who  loaned  moneys  at  usurious 
interest,  a  gambler  who  fleeced  the  trooper 
folk  of  their  scanty  pay,  a  dispenser  of  bad 
liquors  and  worse  morals.  Some  truth  there 
may  have  been  in  some  of  these  tales,  yet 
Shiner  had  been  a  strangely  useful  man. 
He  supplied  the  post  with  milk  and  cream, 
butter  and  eggs,  of  better  quality  and  lower 
price  than  could  possibly  be  had  in  town. 
He  knew  the  best  hunting  and  fishing  on 
107 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  range.  He  had  teams  and  "rigs"  at  all 
times  at  the  service  of  officers  and  soldiers, 
when  the  post  ambulance  was  forbidden  by 
an  unfeeling  government.  He  had  a  corral 
and  stockade  that  had  more  than  once  bidden 
stout  defiance  to  both  the  law  and  the  law 
less.  He  had,  so  the  fort  children  firmly 
believed,  a  subterranean  passage  from  his 
stockade  to  the  sentry-lines.  He  was  hated 
by  both  sheriff  and  sutler  in  days  when  the 
latter  lived  and  thrived;  he  overreached  the 
one,  undersold  the  other,  and  outwitted  both. 
He  befriended  every  soldier  in  a  scrape, 
whether  the  offence  were  against  the  majestic 
letter  of  the  civil  law  or  only  the  unimportant 
spirit  of  the  military.  In  the  eyes  of  the  few 
he  was  much  of  a  sinner;  in  the  eyes  of  the 
many  no  less  of  a  saint;  and,  after  careful 
casting  up  of  accounts,  the  colonel  of  the 
— th  Cavalry  had  declared  Shiner  far  more 
good  than  bad,  treated  him  accordingly,  and 
won  a  surprised  and  devoted  friend  and  ally. 
Another  officer  Shiner  swore  by  was  Dr.  Gra 
ham,  and  for  reasons  similar  to  those  of  his 
fellow,  and  farther-distant,  ranchman  Ross. 
108 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Yet  Geordie  had  often  heard  of  mysterious 
doings  at  Shiner's  that  would  not  bear  official 
investigation — had  heard  and  kept  silent. 
In  those  days  Shiner  dwelt  close  under  the 
sheltering  wing  of  a  sympathetic  garrison. 
Now,  if  still  there,  he  must  be  living  in  the 
light,  and  for  the  first  time  it  dawned  upon 
Geordie  that  what  he  heard  of  Shiner  in  by 
gone  days  and  kept  to  himself,  he  could  not 
hear  and  know  and  keep  to  himself  now. 
It  was  one  thing  to  be  a  garrison  boy ;  it  was 
another  to  be  an  officer  in  the  army  of  the 
United  States. 

The  instant  that  it  dawned  upon  him  that 
Nolan  and  his  friends  were  heading  across 
country  for  Shiner's  old  plant,  riding  hard 
in  the  belief  that  they  were  pursued  by  rail, 
it  flashed  upon  him  that  he  could  not  join 
Nolan  there — indeed,  he  must,  if  a  possible 
thing,  guide  or  direct  him  elsewhere. 

Already  the  pursued  were  through  the 
ford  and,  with  dripping  flanks,  were  scram 
bling  up  the  opposite  shore.  Already  big 
705  was  almost  abreast  of  them,  and  in  an 
other  moment  would  be  swiftly  speeding  by. 
109 


TO    THE    FRONT 

It  was  two  years  since  Geordie  last  set  eyes 
on  Nolan,  but  there  was  no  mistaking,  even 
at  that  distance,  the  tall,  gaunt  figure  and  the 
practised  seat  in  saddle.  Behind  him  trailed 
three  comrades,  two  of  whom,  at  least,  were 
tyros  in  the  art  of  horsemanship.  They  were 
hanging  on  for  dear  life  as  their  steeds  labor 
ed  on  after  the  leader.  The  object  of  all  four 
was  obviously  to  get  beyond  easy  rifle  range 
of  the  rushing  train  before  drawing  rein  to 
reconnoitre,  and  now,  probably  noting  that 
the  engine  was  driving  on  full  speed,  with  no 
sign  of  stopping,  the  tall  horseman  in  the 
lead  circled  swiftly  to  his  right,  along  the 
crest  of  a  low  ridge  perhaps  three  hundred 
yards  away,  then  peered  from  under  his 
broad  hatbrim  at  the  supposed  enemy. 

And  then  it  was  that  Graham  and  Toomey, 
both,  sprang  back  to  the  coal -pile  in  the 
tender,  clambered  high  as  possible  on  the 
shifting  slope,  and,  balancing  as  best  they 
could,  whipped  off  their  caps,  swung  them 
joyously  about  their  heads,  and  eagerly  gave 
the  old-time,  well-known  cavalry  signal, 
"  Forward!"  "  Forward!"  They  saw  Nolan 
no 


TO    THE    FRONT 

and  his  friends  seated  on  their  panting  horses, 
staring  after  them  in  amaze  and  wonderment, 
then  resolutely  following. 

A  mile  now  would  bring  them  whistling 
by  the  site  of  old  Fort  Reynolds,  and  a  lump 
rose  in  Geordie's  throat,  for  the  weather- 
beaten,  ramshackle  stables  came  in  view  as 
the  Mogul  rounded  a  long,  easy  curve,  and 
there,  beyond  them  and  on  the  level  bench 
before  them,  stood  the  trim  rows  of  officers' 
quarters,  now  deserted  and  tenantless,  yet 
guarded  by  the  single  sergeant  and  his  little 
squad  of  men.  To  the  right,  afar  up  the 
track  near  the  foot-bridge  and  ford,  lay  the 
station  building,  wellnigh  useless  now  since 
the  greater  interests  and  industries,  that  had 
made  the  railway  possible  and  forced  the 
Indian  farther  back,  had  also  fouled  the 
mountain  stream  and  spoiled  the  site  for  a 
cavalry  post. 

There  stood  the  freight  sheds;  there  were 
the  chutes  for  horses  and  mules;  there,  be 
yond  them,  the  now  abandoned  office  and 
waiting-room ;  and  there,  still  glistening  white 
and  towering,  the  semaphore  signal-mast  of 
in 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  railway;  and  then  and  there,  sure  and 
sudden,  there  dropped  the  black  arm  straight 
across  and  above  their  glistening  path  in  the 
never-to-be-neglected  order — Stop ! 

Big  Ben's  lined  face  went  swiftly  gray 
through  its  coat  of  grime,  but  the  firm  hand 
did  its  instant  work  with  the  throttle.  Then, 
swinging  from  his  seat,  he  grasped  the  glisten 
ing  lever  and,  peering  intently  forward,  stood 
ready  to  throw  it  in  reverse.  Toomey  sprang 
for  the  cord  and  jerked  one  fierce  toot  out  of 
the  whistle,  the  old-time  signal  for  down- 
brakes  before  Westinghouse  and  his  science 
put  everything  at  the  touch  of  the  engineer. 
Almost  at  the  moment  the  swift  rush  of  the 
train  became  jarring  and  rough.  Two  daring 
men  scampered,  monkey-like,  along  the  top 
of  the  cars,  twisting  a  brake  on  each,  then 
darting  to  the  next.  A  furious  gust  of  steam 
tore  from  the  escape -valve  and  streamed 
away  overhead.  Not  a  thing  was  in  sight 
on  the  track,  not  a  soul  on  the  platform,  to 
account  for  the  alarming  signal.  A  switch- 
target  clanked  as  they  tore  over  the  points; 
a  vagrant  dog  scurried  away  toward  the 

112 


TO    THE    FRONT 

once  thriving  saloon,  and  not  until  they  drove 
in,  hissing,  grinding,  and  bumping,  to  the  side 
of  the  dusty  platform,  did  Ben's  keen  eyes 
catch  sight  of  two  herdsmen's  horses — cow 
ponies — tethered  back  of  the  shanty  beside 
the  saloon,  and  up  went  the  lid  of  his  box  at 
the  instant,  in  went  his  right  hand,  and  then 
out  it  came  full  grasp  on  a  brown-barrelled 
six-shooter. 


CHAPTER  IX 

BAD   NEWS    FROM   THE   MINES 

A  HOLD-UP,"  muttered  Toomey,  as,  obe 
dient  to  Big  Ben's  orders,  "Duck,  you 
two!"  he  and  Geordie  crouched  for  the  mo 
ment  in  the  dark  interior  of  the  cab.  But 
who  would  hold  up  a  freight  bound  to,  not 
away  from,  the  mines  ?  Twice,  thrice,  indeed, 
since  the  cavalry  had  been  sent  from  Fort 
Reynolds,  the  overland  express  had  been 
flagged  between  Argenta  and  Summit  Siding, 
and  masked  men  had  boarded  the  train,  de 
spoiled  the  passengers  and  Pullmans ;  and  once 
old  Shiner  had  come  under  suspicion  because 
certain  plunder  was  found  at  his  place. 

"The  robbers  are  discharged  soldiers," 
swore  the  sheriff  of  Yampah;  "their  haunt  is 
at  Shiner's."  Yet  not  so  much  as  a  scrap 
of  other  evidence  was  there  found.  Shiner 
threw  open  his  doors  to  the  officers,  bade 
114 


TO    THE    FRONT 

them  search  high  and  low,  declared  upon 
honor  as  he  would  upon  oath  that  he  him 
self  had  found  the  damaging  evidence — two 
pocket-books  and  some  valueless  papers — 
on  the  open  prairie  a  mile  from  his  place  the 
day  after  the  third  of  the  "hold-ups."  There 
had  long  been  bad  blood  betwixt  him  and  the 
sheriff,  and  this  time  the  man  of  the  law  gave 
the  lie,  and  but  for  prompt  work  of  by 
standers — deputy  Shiners  and  sheriffs  both — 
there  would  have  been  cause  for  a  coroner's 
inquest  on  the  spot.  Before  that  day  it  had 
been  avowed  hostility  between  them;  now 
it  was  war  to  the  knife.  Much  of  this  was 
known  to  the  men  of  the  railway,  who  sided 
according  to  their  lights.  Few  of  them 
knew  Shiner ;  many  knew  the  sheriff.  It  was 
patent  at  a  glance  that  Big  Ben  held  to  the 
views  of  the  latter  and  looked  upon  Shiner's 
hand,  or  Shiner's  hands,  as  the  cause  of  the 
hold-up.  Nor  was  he  entirely  wrong.  Even 
as  Cullin  came  running  up  the  track  from  the 
rear  of  the  train,  and  brakemen  running 
atop  of  it,  eager  to  learn  the  cause  of  the 
stop,  two  men  with  saddle-bags  slung  over 
"5 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  left  arm  stepped  out  from  behind  the 
passenger  depot  and  met  the  conductor  half 
way.  Glancing  back,  Ben  caught  sight  of 
them  and,  pistol  in  hand,  started  to  swing 
from  the  engine,  crying  "Come  on!"  to 
Toomey.  Springing  to  his  feet,  Toomey  gave 
one  look  back  to  the  platform.  His  keen 
eyes  danced  with  excitement  and  joy. 
"Hold  on!"  he  shouted  to  Ben.  "It's  all 
right.  Lay  low,"  he  whispered  to  Geordie. 
"It's  Shiner  himself!" 

And  old  Shiner  it  was,  cool,  quiet,  pale, 
resolute  in  face  of  a  furious  conductor  and  a 
threatening  crew — Shiner,  presently  backed 
by  a  sergeant  of  regulars  and  two  of  his  men, 
who  had  come  running  over  the  foot-bridge 
at  the  stop  of  the  train,  and  now  silently 
ranged  themselves  in  tacit  support.  What 
Cullin  had  demanded  was  how  Shiner  dared 
tamper  with  the  signals  —  how,  in  fact,  he 
had  managed  to,  since  they  had  been  care 
fully  locked — and  who  was  he,  anyhow.  And 
Shiner  had  simply  answered:  "I've  a  boy 
shot  and  dying  at  Silver  Shield.  I  only  heard 
it  late  in  the  night.  There's  no  other  way 
116 


TO    THE    FRONT 

to  get  to  him.  I  pay  full  fare  and  all  dam 
ages" — but  he  got  no  further,  for  Toomey 
came  atrot  from  the  engine,  threw  himself 
upon  him,  and  grasped  his  hand. 

"What's  the  trouble,  old  man?"  was  the 
instant  question. 

And  Shiner,  turning,  saw  an  old  friend  and 
beneficiary,  and  should  have  taken  heart  at 
the  sight.  Instead  of  which,  at  sound  of  a 
sympathetic  voice,  he  who  had  been  firm  and 
fearless  in  the  face  of  abuse  and  opposition 
now  wellnigh  broke  down.  "They've  killed 
—little  Jack!"  he  almost  sobbed.  " Thank 
God  you're  here,  Toomey!" 

"  Of  course  you'll  take  him!"  cried  Toomey, 
turning  sharp  on  Cullin. 

"Of  course  I  won't  take  him!"  snarled 
Cullin,  wrath  and  temper  stiffening  his  back, 
"but  the  law  shall,  quick  as  I  can  fix  it. 
Back  to  your  cab,  both  of  you!"  he  waved, 
for  Ben,  too,  was  bulkily  climbing  the  plat 
form  steps.  "  Pull  out  at  once  and  don't 
you  stop  for  no  more  snide  work!" 

"And  leave  this  man  here?"  shouted 
Toomey.  "Then  you  can  do  your  own 
117 


TO    THE    FRONT 

firing  from  here  on,  Cullin.  Hold  on,  Ben, 
till  I  get  my  things  off.  You  can  obey  if  you 
like,  but  it's  the  last  run  I  make  with  this — 
faugh!  And  you  say  you've  been  a  soldier!" 
It  was  Toomey's  chance,  after  weeks  of  pent- 
up  rage  for  battle,  and  he  couldn't  throw  it 
away.  Seeing  that  Ben,  dull,  heavy,  and  un 
comprehending,  was  staring  stupidly  about 
him,  not  knowing  what  to  do;  seeing  that 
even  Cullin  was  melting  at  sight  of  the  grief 
in  Shiner's  face;  seeing  the  sympathy  in  the 
eyes  of  the  bluecoats  and  the  shame  in  those 
of  the  brakemen,  Toomey  turned  loose  on  his 
adversary,  and  Toomey,  when  fairly  started, 
could  talk  to  the  point.  It  was  a  tongue- 
lashing,  indeed,  and  one  that  left  the  con 
ductor  no  chance  to  reply. 

"It's  'gainst  orders,  and  you  know  it, 
Toomey,"  was  his  futile  gasp,  when  Toomey 
stopped  for  breath. 

"  'Gainst  orders  you've  broken  time  and 
again,  and  you  know  it!  'Gainst  orders 
Bob  Anthony  would  break  your  head  for 
not  breaking!  It's  'gainst  orders  for  you 
to  pull  out  now  when  you're  blocked,  till 
118 


TO    THE    FRONT 

you  get  further  orders  —  and  yet  you  say 
go." 

"How  can  I  get  orders  without  a  man  or 
a  wire  at  the  station?"  burst  in  Cullin,  grasp 
ing  at  straws.  "  How  can  I  get  authority  to 
take  this  man  along?  He's  liable  to  arrest 
anyhow  for  tampering  with  the  signals." 

And  then  another  voice  was  interjected, 
another  disputant  stepped  quickly  forward, 
andToomey  checked  himself  in  the  first  breath 
of  an  impassioned  outburst;  his  black  hand 
suddenly  shot  half-way  up  to  the  cap-visor, 
then  came  down  with  a  jerk;  his  heels  had 
clicked  together  and  his  knees  straightened 
out,  then  as  suddenly  went  limp.  The  new 
comer  had  sprung  up  the  steps.  The  form 
was  slender  and  sinewy.  Hands,  face,  and 
dress  were  black  with  soot,  but  the  young 
voice  was  deep  and  the  ring  of  accustom 
ed  command  was  in  every  word.  "That's 
your  cue,  Mr.  Cullin.  Arrest  him  and  fetch 
him  along."  Then  turning  to  Toomey: 
"  There's  no  one  at  the  cab.  Better  get  back, 
quick!"  he  added.  And  Toomey  went. 

Big  Ben  gave  one  look  and,  without  a  word, 
9  119 


TO    THE    FRONT 

waddled  after  his  fireman.  The  tears  that 
stood  in  old  Shiner's  eyes  dashed  away  at 
the  brush  of  a  sleeve.  A  light  of  astonish 
ment,  comprehension,  relief  suddenly  gleam 
ed  in  their  place.  The  sergeant  stared  for  a 
moment,  looked  blankly  at  his  men,  then 
side-stepped  for  another  long  gaze  at  the 
new-comer's  face.  Cullin  turned  sharply, 
resentful  at  first  at  the  tone  of  authority, 
wrath  in  his  heart  and  rebuke  on  his  tongue, 
but  then  came  sudden  reminder  of  Anthony's 
card — the  card  the  strange  young  fellow  had 
presented  only  when  needed  to  convince, 
the  card  he  had  been  so  sagacious  as  to  re 
tain,  the  card  that  proclaimed  him  a  friend 
of  the  powers  and  a  person  to  be  considered. 
Moreover,  the  friend  and  person  had  sug 
gested  a  means  by  which  actual  surrender 
to  the  situation  might  appear  as  virtual  and 
moral  victory.  One  more  look  at  Shiner 
and  then  Shiner  settled  it.  "I  submit  to  ar 
rest,  Mr.  Cullin.  Let  me  go  with  you — and 
settle." 

"Get  aboard  the  caboose,"  was  the  gruff 
answer,  and,  all  apparent  meekness,  Shiner 

120 


TO    THE    FRONT 

obeyed.  "  Not  you, ' '  added  Cullin,  as  Shiner's 
saddle  -  bag  -  bearing  friend  would  have  fol 
lowed.  "Give  me  the  bags,"  said  Shiner, 
"  and  you  look  to — "  A  significant  glance  at 
the  signal  told  the  rest.  Cullin  followed  it 
with  his  eyes,  saw  the  arm  still  lowered  to 
the  "stop,"  knew  that  it  should  not  be  left 
there,  and  for  a  moment  held  back. 

"He-n  fix  it,"  said  Shiner,  from  the  plat 
form  of  the  caboose,  while  his  eyes  sought 
the  face  of  the  tall  young  fellow  at  Cullin 's 
back.  Cullin  strode  to  the  corner  of  the 
office  and  followed  the  ranchman  with 
curious  eyes.  That  sun-tanned,  bow-legged 
person  straddled  down  the  back  steps,  his 
big  spurs  jingling,  a  high  boot-heel  catching 
on  next  to  the  lowermost  and  pitching  him 
forward.  He  clamped  his  broadbrim  on  his 
head  with  one  hand  and  steadied  his  holster 
with  the  other,  straightened  up  with  half- 
stifled  expletive,  and  the  next  minute  was 
swarming  up  the  slender  iron  rungs  of  the 
signal-ladder.  "He's  got  to  prop  it  up  where 
it  belongs,"  said  the  sergeant.  "Reckon  he 
must  have  shot  the  wire  that  held  it."  And 

121 


TO    THE    FRONT 

of  a  truth  the  wire  was  severed.  But  when 
Cullin  turned  back  to  his  train  with  the 
mystery  cleared,  the  sight  and  sound  of  new 
commotion  blocked  his  own  signal  to  start. 
Two  horsemen,  on  foam-spattered  bron 
cos,  were  spurring  vehemently  down  the 
road  from  the  eastward  ridge.  Two  oth 
ers  were  trailing  exhaustedly  two  hundred 
lengths  behind,  only  just  feebly  popping 
over  the  divide.  And  to  these  persons  both 
his  prisoner  and  his  prisoner's  advocate,  who 
were  clasping  hands  as  he  whirled  and  saw 
them,  were  now  signalling  cheer  and  en 
couragement.  Ten  cars  ahead,  at  the  cab, 
Big  Ben  and  Toomey,  too,  were  leaning  far 
out  and  eagerly  watching  the  chase ;  the  ser 
geant  and  his  men,  wondering  much  at  the 
sight,  but  professionally  impassive,  strode 
to  the  end  of  the  platform  for  better  view, 
then  all  of  a  sudden  began  to  shout  and 
swing  their  caps,  and  before  Cullin  could  re 
cover  from  his  surprise  the  foremost  rider, 
tall,  spare,  with  long,  grizzled  mustache  and 
fiery  eyes,  threw  himself  from  saddle  and 
came  bounding  up  the  steps.  He  was  sur- 

122 


TO    THE    FRONT 

rounded  in  an  instant,  only  one  man  hanging 
back.  The  slender  young  fellow  in  the 
grimy  cap  and  overalls  quietly  stepped  into 
the  dark  interior  of  the  caboose. 

In  the  glare  of  the  unclouded  sunshine, 
breathing  hard  from  his  exertion,  his  hand 
grasped  successively  by  Shiner  and  the  three 
soldiers,  the  veteran  trooper  told  his  hurried 
tale,  while,  one  after  another,  his  followers, 
wellnigh  exhausted,  labored  after  him,  and 
finally  rolled  stiffly  to  terra  firma  at  the 
station,  their  wretched  livery  mounts,  with 
dripping,  quivering  flanks  and  drooping 
heads,  stood  straddling  close  at  hand,  too 
utterly  used  up  to  stagger  away. 

Nolan's  story  was  brief  but  explicit. 
Somebody  in  the  swarm  that  overwhelmed 
the  Narrow  Gauge  train  the  previous  night 
had  crept  back  to  town  after  midnight  and 
started  the  story  that  young  Breifogle  had 
been  slugged  by  the  gang.  By  early  morn 
ing  it  got  to  the  father's  ears.  With  the 
sheriff  and  some  friends  he  had  driven  down 
in  the  wake  of  No.  4,  found  plenty  of  men 
who  could  tell  of  the  mobbing,  but  none  who 
123 


TO    THE    FRONT 

could  tell  of  his  son.  The  miners  had  scat 
tered  ;  the  few  passengers  also,  glad  that  they 
were  not  "wanted"  by  that  infuriated  crowd. 
It  was  then  after  sunrise,  and,  almost  crazed 
by  anxiety  and  wrath,  Breifogle  had  hurried 
back  to  Argenta.  His  first  thought  seemed 
to  be  vengeance  on  Nolan,  whom  rumor 
declared  the  ringleader  of  his  son's  assailants, 
and  a  warrant  was  out  for  his  arrest,  even 
as  the  big  Mogul  was  rolling  into  the  yard, 
with  its  dingy -brown  train  of  freight-cars 
and  the  battered  body  of  that  luckless  youth, 
Nolan's  assailant  at  Silver  Shield. 

The  first  full  peril  of  his  situation  broke 
upon  Nolan  the  instant  the  news  was  rushed 
to  him.  Innocent  of  any  part  in  the  as 
sault  though  he  was — ignorant  of  it,  in  fact, 
until  dawn — he  well  knew  that  every  artifice 
would  be  played  against  him,  and  that  all  the 
power,  the  means,  and  methods  of  the  Brei 
fogle  clique  would  be  lavishly  used.  Long 
imprisonment  would  be  sure,  harsh  trial  cer 
tain,  acquittal  improbable,  hanging  almost 
a  certainty. 

"  Away  with  you!  Get  back  to  the  mines 
124 


TO    THE    FRONT 

and  the  mountains!"  was  the  instant  warn 
ing,  and  without  the  loss  of  a  minute, 
mounted  on  such  horses  as  his  friends 
could  hire,  he  and  three  of  his  trustiest  fol 
lowers  had  galloped  away.  They  thought 
the  sheriff  was  at  their  heels  when  the  Fast 
Freight  came  thundering  after  them,  but 
hailed,  with  amaze  and  joy,  the  signal  from 
the  tender,  and,  feeling  sure  the  train  would 
await  them  here,  had  spurred  on  to  the  station. 

"You'll  send  the  horses  back  for  us,  will 
you,  sergeant?"  he  finished.  Then  eagerly, 
"  Now,  conductor,  shall  we  pull  out  for  Sum 
mit?" 

"Pull  out  for  nothing,"  was  the  astound 
ing  answer.  "You  know  perfectly  no  Time 
Freight  on  this  road  takes  a  passenger  of  any 
kind,  and  it  would  be  more'n  my  job's  worth 
to  take  you!" 

"  Then,  in  God's  name,  why  did  you  sig 
nal?"  was  the  almost  agonized  question. 

"Signal  be  jiggered!      I  never  signalled. 
No  man  of  my  crew  signalled.     If  you  want 
to  get  back  to  the  mines,  stay  here  and  flag 
No.  5.     She'll  be  along  at  eleven." 
125 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"Along  at  eleven!  Man  alive,  the  sheriff 
will  be  here  with  a  posse  of  forty  long  before 
that!" 

"Long  before  that!"  almost  screamed  old 
Shiner.  "Look,  there,  what  you  see!  He's 
coming  now!" 

And  then  Geordie  Graham,  listening  with 
beating  heart  within  the  open  doorway  of 
the  caboose,  could  stand  the  strain  no  longer. 
The  man  he  must  see,  the  man  on  whom 
everything  depended,  the  old  friend  whom 
he  most  trusted  and  believed  in  stood  in  sore 
peril.  The  cause  for  which  he  had  come 
all  these  miles  must  fail  so  sure  as  Nolan 
slipped  into  the  power  of  the  adversary, 
even  though  grasped  by  the  hand  of  the 
law.  It  was  no  time  for  ethics — no  time  for 
casuists.  He  let  his  voice  out  in  the  old 
tone  of  authority: 

"You've  no  time  to  lose,  Mr.  Cullin. 
Arrest  them,  too,  and  come  on!" 

With  wonderment  in  his  eyes,  with  Shiner 

whispering  caution  in  his  ear,  "Long"  Nolan 

was  hustled  aboard  the  caboose  just  as  the 

wheels  began  to  turn,  his  breathless  followers 

126 


TO    THE    FRONT 

clambering  after,  while  afar  up  the  divide 
toward  the  east,  by  twos  and  threes,  in  eager 
pursuit,  egged  on  by  lavish  promise  of  re 
ward,  the  sheriff  of  Yampah,  with  a  score  of 
his  men,  spurred  furiously  on  the  trail  of  a 
train  that,  starting  slowly  and  heavily, 
speedily  gained  headway  and  soon  went 
thundering  up  the  grade,  "leaving  the 
wolves  behind." 


CHAPTER  X 

FIRST    SHOTS    OF    THE    SUMMER 

HALF-WAY  up  the  scarred  slope  of  moun 
tain-side,  and  opposite  the  mouth  of  a 
deep  ravine,  hung  the  crude  wooden  build 
ings  and  costly  machinery  of  a  modern  mine. 
Zigzagging  up  the  heights,  the  road  that  led 
to  it  from  the  ramshackle  town  in  the  valley 
was  dotted  with  groups  of  rough-coated  men, 
all  plodding  steadily  onward.  Perched  on 
"benches"  and  shelves  and  dumps  of  blasted 
rock  and  fresh-heaped  earth,  similar  though 
smaller  clusters  of  buildings  dotted  the  low 
er  slopes,  marring  the  grand  outlines  and 
sweeping  curves  of  the  great  upheavals,  cut 
ting  ugly  gashes  in  the  green  and  swelling 
billows,  yet  eagerly  sought  in  the  race  for 
wealth  and  the  greed  for  gold,  because  of 
the  treasures  they  wrested  from  the  bowels 
of  the  everlasting  hills.  Afar  down  the 
128 


TO    THE    FRONT 

winding  valley  a  turbid  stream  went  frothing 
away  to  the  foot-hills,  telling  of  labor,  turmoil, 
and  strife.  Beside  it  twisted  and  turned  the 
railway  that  burrowed  through  the  range 
barely  five  miles  back  of  the  town,  and  re 
appeared  on  the  westward  face  of  the  Silver 
Bow,  clinging  dizzily  to  heights  that  looked 
down  on  rolling  miles  of  pine,  cedar,  stunted 
oak,  and  almost  primeval  loneliness.  The 
mineral  wealth,  said  the  experts,  lay  on  the 
eastward  side,  and  by  thousands  the  miners 
were  there,  swarming  like  ants  all  over  the 
surface  seeking  their  golden  gain. 

And  something  was  surely  amiss  at  the 
mines  when  the  chimneys  of  as  many  as  six 
of  the  "plants"  gave  forth  no  smoke,  when 
the  fires  were  out  and  the  men  adrift.  Some 
thing  had  happened  that  called  the  craftsmen 
from  a  dozen  other  burrows  to  the  aid  of  those 
at  the  new  and  lately  thronging  works,  on 
that  shoulder  at  the  mouth  of  the  gorge — 
the  mine  of  the  Silver  Shield.  Murder  most 
foul,  said  the  story,  had  been  done  in  the 
name  of  the  law.  Armed  guards  of  the 
property  had  shot  down,  it  was  said,  a  half- 
129 


TO    THE    FRONT 

score  of  workmen,  clamoring  only  for  their 
pay  and  their  rights.  A  son  of  the  principal 
owner,  so  it  was  known,  had  ordered  his 
men  to  fire.  A  son  of  an  old  soldier  and 
settler,  living  in  peace  barely  forty  miles 
away,  was  one  of  the  victims,  for  he  had 
taken  sides  with  Long  Nolan,  who  with 
out  rhyme  or  reason  had  been  discharged, 
and  violently  flung  from  the  premises.  There 
had  been  a  wild  rush  on  the  guard,  a  volley, 
a  recoil,  a  rally  in  force,  and  an  outcry  for 
vengeance.  Then  the  guard  had  to  shoot  in 
earnest  and  self-defence,  for  their  lives  were 
at  stake.  Some  of  the  men  had  gone  to 
Argenta  to  plead  with  the  owners,  but  most 
had  remained  to  stir  all  hands  within  ten 
miles  to  the  support  of  their  fellows.  The 
miscreant  who  had  ordered  "fire"  had  escaped 
across  to  Miners*  Joy,  only  to  be  dealt  with 
by  sympathizers  on  the  Narrow  Gauge;  but 
the  men  who  fired  and  who  shot  to  kill  were 
trapped  like  rats  in  a  hole.  Surrounded  on 
every  side,  every  avenue  of  escape  now 
guarded,  they  and  the  luckless  manager  of 
the  mine  were  cooped  in  their  log  fortification, 
130 


TO    THE    FRONT 

with  two  lives  and  several  serious  wounds 
to  answer  for,  and  as  the  sun  went  westering 
this  long  summer's  day  they  had  two  hours 
left  in  which  to  decide — come  out  and  sur 
render  or  be  burned  out  where  they  lay. 

Half  the  village  had  gone  to  swell  the 
ranks  of  the  rioters;  another  half — slatternly 
women  and  unkempt  children — swarmed  in 
the  single  street  and  gazed  upward  at  the 
heights.  Every  ledge  about  the  threatened 
buildings  was  black  with  men,  men  furious 
with  hate  and  mad  with  liquor,  men  needing 
only  determined  and  resolute  leaders  to  go 
in  and  finish  their  fearful  work. 

But  here  was  their  lack.  The  men  they 
had  counted  on,  one  man  in  particular  on 
whose  account  many  of  their  number  had 
braved  the  guard  and  threatened  the  owners 
— one  man,  Long  Nolan  himself,  refused 
point  blank  to  have  aught  to  do  with  them 
or  their  plans.  Another  man,  he  whose  son 
lay  dying  in  the  village,  shot  down  by  the 
guards,  was  there,  sad-eyed  yet  stern-faced, 
to  stay  and  dissuade  them.  The  one  train 
up  from  the  East  that  day — the  only  one 


TO    THE    FRONT 

that  could  come,  for  now  the  road  was  blown 
out  in  a  dozen  places  down  the  gorge — had 
brought  with  it  Nolan  and  Shiner,  with  two 
or  three  friends  at  their  back,  and  Nolan  and 
Shiner,  in  spite  of  their  wrongs,  were  plead 
ing  hard  for  peace,  pleading  so  hard,  so 
earnestly,  that  by  5  P.M.  many  a  man, 
American  born,  had  seen  the  force  of  their 
reasoning  and  had  stepped  back  from  the 
front. 

But  among  the  killed  was  a  poor  lad  from 
the  mountains  of  Bohemia.  Among  the 
vengeful  throng  were  swarms  of  foreigners 
who  could  understand  little  or  nothing  of 
what  Nolan  and  his  friends  were  saying,  and 
who  speedily  would  have  scorned  it  could 
they  have  understood,  for  at  five  o'clock 
another  speaker  took  the  stand,  a  man  of  the 
people  he  called  himself,  a  foreigner  long 
on  our  shores,  yet  fluent  in  the  language  of 
the  Slavs,  and  in  ten  minutes  the  torrent  was 
turned.  With  terror  in  his  eyes,  a  man 
who  had  long  worked  with  Nolan,  a  foreigner, 
too,  came  running  to  the  silent,  anxious  little 
group  of  Anglo-Saxons.  "Nolan — Nolan/' 
132 


TO    THE    FRONT 

he  cried.  "He  says  you  was  traitor!  He 
says  you  was  gone  to  Argenta  and  told  all 
their  secrets,  and  you  was  bought  off — bribed 
— and  you  bring  strangers  to  help  you!  He 
says  you  and  they  are  just  spies,  an'  now 
they  come  for  you!" 

One  glance  from  where  the  little  group 
were  crouching,  sheltered  from  possible  shots 
from  the  buildings,  yet  between  them  and 
the  throng,  told  Nolan  and  Shiner  the  alarm 
was  real,  the  words  were  true.  Like  so 
many  maddened  beasts,  a  gang  of  uncouth, 
unkempt,  blood-thirsty  beings  were  now 
crowding  up  the  narrow  roadway  from  the 
bench  below. 

"My  God,  Mr.  Geordie!"  cried  Nolan,  in 
sudden  agony  of  spirit,  "  I  never  once  dream 
ed  of  this!" 

It  was,  indeed,  a  moment  of  terror.  Here, 
barely  a  dozen  in  all,  were  Nolan,  Shiner, 
George  Graham,  and  a  few  of  the  more  in 
telligent,  the  Americans,  among  the  miners. 
There,  possibly  a  hundred  yards  away,  and 
to  the  number  of  at  least  three  hundred, 
a  throng  of  human  brutes,  utterly  ignorant, 


TO    THE    FRONT 

superstitious,  credulous,  craftily  inspired, 
were  now  surging  slowly  forward  up  the 
heights.  Two  minutes  would  bring  them 
about  the  little  party  in  overwhelming 
strength.  Flight  anywhere  downhill  was 
impossible.  The  one  refuge  in  sight  was 
that  beleagured  little  clump  of  buildings  just 
beyond  them  up  the  slope,  garrisoned  by  a 
dozen  desperate  men  who  had  shouted  warn 
ing  again  and  again,  they'd  shoot  down  the 
first  man  that  showed  a  head  above  the  rocks. 
But  desperate  straits  need  desperate  meas 
ures.  All  on  a  sudden  a  tall,  slender  youth, 
in  the  coarse  dress  of  a  railway  fireman, 
sprang  from  the  midst  of  the  pallid-faced 
group  and,  waving  his  handkerchief  over  his 
head,  called  back,  "Stay  where  you  are 
one  minute!"  and  then,  without  a  second's 
falter  or  swerve,  straight  for  the  nearest 
building,  a  low,  one-story  log -house,  the 
manager's  office  near  the  mouth  of  the  mine, 
waving  his  white  signal  high  as  his  arm 
could  reach,  and  shouting,  ''Don't  fire — we 
are  friends!"  George  Graham  swiftly  climbed 
for  the  upper  level.  One  rifle  flashed.  One 


TO    THE    FRONT 

bullet  whizzed  over  his  head,  but  he  reached 
the  road,  then,  both  arms  extended,  rushed 
straight  for  the  door. 

It  was  thrown  open  to  admit  him  by 
Cawker,  the  manager,  white-faced  almost  as 
they  whom  Geordie  had  left.  "Come  out 
here!"  cried  Graham.  "See  for  yourself. 
Nolan,  Shiner,  with  those  few  lads,  are  all 
that  have  stood  between  you  and  the  mob 
below.  Every  American  is  out  of  it.  They're 
coming  to  kill  Nolan  for  turning  against  them. 
Call  him  up !  Call  them  all—  There's  barely 
a  dozen.  Then  you've  got  just  as  many 
more  to  stand  by  you!" 

And  Cawker  had  sense  to  see  and  to 
realize.  "  Call  'em  yourself,"  said  he.  "  Don't 
shoot,  men!  These  are  friends  come  to  aid 
us!"  he  cried,  running  up  and  down  in  front 
of  the  loop-holes.  "Come  on,  Nolan  and 
all  of  you,"  he  added,  for  Graham  had  gone 
bounding  half-way  back  again,  and,  like  so 
many  goats,  the  threatened  party  came 
scrambling  out  of  their  shelter  and  up  the 
steep  incline,  while  afar  down  the  hill-side 
rose  a  yell  of  baffled  rage  and  vengeance. 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"  Hold  the  rest  of  them  whatever  you  do!" 
shouted  Geordie,  again  racing  back.  "  Don't 
let  that  gang  over  the  edge  or  you're  gone!" 
And  again  the  brown  barrels  of  the  rifles 
thrust  forth  from  the  wooden  walls  and 
were  turned  on  the  bend  of  the  road.  Almost 
breathless,  Long  Nolan,  and  with  him  the 
little  squad  of  adherents,  came  running  up 
to  the  door.  ''Inside,  quick  as  you  can!" 
shouted  Cawker.  "We've  got  to  give  those 
blood-hounds  a  lesson." 

Even  as  he  spoke  a  shot  struck  the  thick, 
iron  hinge  of  the  heavy  door,  the  lead  spat 
tering  viciously.  Another  ripped  through 
the  casement  of  the  nearest  window,  and 
a  shiver  of  glass  was  heard  within,  as  the 
bullet  spun  through  the  shade  of  a  lamp 
swinging  from  the  beam  above.  Cawker 
ducked,  unaccustomed  to  such  sounds,  and 
dove  to  the  interior.  Old  Nolan,  soldier  of 
the  Civil  War  and  veteran  of  many  an  Indian 
skirmish,  disdained  to  notice  it.  Geordie, 
bemoaning  the  luck  that  had  left  his  pet 
rifle  in  Denver,  busied  himself  with  Nolan 
in  "herding"  the  party  within  before  him- 
136 


TO    THE    FRONT 

self  following.  Then  Shiner  was  found  miss 
ing. 

"He  started  with  us,"  cried  Nolan.  "He 
wanted  to  go  back  to  be  with  his  boy,  but 
we  showed  him  he'd  never  get  through. 
Those  brutes  would  head  him  off  and  kick 
his  life  out.  He  must  have—  Good  God, 
Mr.  Geordie!  Look  where  he  lies!" 

And  then  they  saw  that  the  old  plainsman, 
in  his  eagerness  to  make  a  way  back  to  his 
possibly  dying  son,  had  quit  the  rush  when 
half  -  way  up,  had  turned  eastward  and 
sought  a  foot-path  down  the  mountain-side, 
had  found  it  guarded,  like  the  rest,  by  a  gang 
that  yelled  savage  welcome  at  sight  of  him. 
Then,  too  late,  he  had  turned  again,  had 
managed  to  run  some  fifty  yards  along  the 
jagged  slope,  when  a  shot  from  a  well-aimed 
rifle  laid  him  low.  With  a  leg  broken  just 
above  the  knee,  poor  Shiner  went  down,  and 
without  so  much  as  a  word,  with  only  one 
glance  into  each  other's  eyes,  Long  Nolan 
and  Geordie  swooped  down  to  the  rescue. 

Breasting  the  hill  fifty  yards  below  him 
came  the  heaving  throng  of  rioters,  few  of 


TO    THE    FRONT 

them,  luckily,  with  fire-arms,  but  all  bent 
on  vengeance  Darting  downhill  to  Shiner 
came  the  old  and  the  new  of  the  regiment  he 
had  known  for  years  and  swore  by  to  the 
end — Nolan,  its  oldest  sergeant  when  dis 
charged;  Graham,  its  youngest  subaltern 
when  so  recently  commissioned.  But,  old 
and  new,  they  were  one  in  purpose  and  in 
spirit.  The  trained  muscles,  the  lithe  young 
limbs  of  the  new  bore  him  bounding  down 
the  slope  in  half  the  time  it  took  the  elder. 
Shiner  lay  facing  the  coming  throng,  grim 
hate  in  his  eyes  and  revolver  in  hand.  In 
the  fury  of  yells  that  arose  he  never  heard 
the  shout  of  encouragement  from  above. 
Geordie  was  bending  over  him,  had  seized 
him  by  the  arm,  was  slinging  him  on  his 
broad  young  back  before  ever  Shiner  saw  the 
face  of  his  rescuer,  and  Geordie,  with  his  help 
less  burden,  was  stumbling  up  the  height 
again  before  Nolan  could  join  and  aid  him. 

By  that  time  the  peering  guardians  of  the 

office  had  caught  sight  of  the  cause  of  the 

pandemonium    of    howls    and    curses   from 

below,  and  the  onward  rush  was  stayed  by 

138 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  sound  of  shots  from  the  hill  and  bullets 
whistling  overhead.  Yet  only  for  a  moment. 
Bullets  sent  downhill  almost  always  fly  high, 
and  finding  this  to  be  so  the  mob  took 
courage  and  came  on  again,  those  who  had 
guns  or  revolvers  shooting  frantically  up  the 
slope,  splintering  rocks  and  spattering  dirt 
as  they  bit  at  the  heels  of  the  rescuers.  It 
was  a  desperate,  do  or  die,  neck  or  nothing, 
bit  of  daring  and  devotion — Nolan's  third 
and  Geordie's  first  experience  in  just  such  a 
feat.  But  the  blood  of  the  Graemes  was  up, 
and  the  younger  soldier  was  not  to  be  out 
done  by  the  old.  The  guards  at  the  office 
burst  into  a  cheer  as  the  two  came  staggering 
up  to  the  level,  with  poor  Shiner  groaning 
between  them,  and  then  quick  work  and  hot 
was  needed,  for  the  mob  came  fierce  on  their 
trail. 

"There's  more  Winchesters  there  in  the 
gun-rack,"  shouted  Cawker,  as  Shiner  was 
laid  on  a  bunk  in  a  back  room.  "  They'll  be 
all  round  us  here  in  a  minute." 

"Aim  low  and  pick  out  the  leaders,  d'ye 
hear?"  panted  Nolan.  "Don't  let  'em  get 


TO    THE    FRONT 

within  reach  of  the  buildings,  whatever  you 
do.  They'll  burn  'em  over  our  heads.  Let 
me  have  your  loop-hole,  you!"  he  ordered  a 
young  fellow,  whose  lips  were  blue  with 
excitement  and  dread.  "Go  sit  by  Shiner 
and  give  him  water  till  I  spoil  a  few  of  these 
voters."  And  the  presence  of  the  veteran, 
the  confident  ring  of  his  voice,  seemed  to 
lend  instant  courage  to  the  defence. 

And  courage,  cool  courage  and  grit,  were 
needed,  for  the  situation  was  difficult,  if  not, 
indeed,  desperate.  With  any  skilled  leader 
to  direct  the  mob,  the  refuge  sought  by  the 
defence  would  already  have  been  ruined. 
The  office  building,  made  of  hewn  logs  laid 
horizontally  and  with  possible  view  of  de 
fence,  had  been  placed  at  the  brow  of  the 
slope  on  one  side  and  near  the  mouth  of  the 
mine  on  the  other.  Later,  however,  rude 
structures  of  unplaned  pine  sprung  up — com 
pressor-plant,  blacksmith-shop,  and  the  like 
— about  it,  no  one  of  them  strong  enough  to 
serve  as  a  fort,  and  all  of  them  a  menace  now 
because  they  screened  the  approaches  on  two 
sides  and  could  be  fired  in  a  dozen  places. 
140 


TO    THE    FRONT 

And  now  that  Graham  and  Nolan  were 
here  to  aid,  this  defect  was  noticed  at  once. 

"This  won't  do  at  all,  Mr.  Cawker,"  said 
Graham,  as  he  sprung  the  lever  of  a  new 
Winchester  and  glanced  into  the  chamber. 
"  We'll  be  surrounded  and  burned  out  of  here 
in  ten  minutes.  We've  got  to  occupy  those 
others,  too." 

Cawker  stared  at  the  "young  feller"  with 
angering  eyes.  A  moment  agone  and  he 
was  praising  his  daring,  but  that  astonishing 
tone  of  authority  nettled  him.  What  busi 
ness  had  a  railway  fireman  telling  him,  a 
mine  manager,  what  to  do  in  case  of  a  row? 

"  You  get  to  a  loop-hole  and  'tend  to  that," 
snapped  he.  "  I'll  'tend  to  my  business,"  and 
he  turned  to  Long  Nolan,  just  heaving  up 
from  a  peep-hole,  for  support  and  approval. 
Nolan  he  knew  for  a  soldier  of  old.  He  had 
learned  to  respect  him  quite  as  much  as  he 
jealously  feared,  and  Nolan's  answer  took 
him  utterly  aback: 

"You  do  as  he  tells  you  and  do  it  quick. 
He  knows  his  business  better'n  ever  you'll 
begin  to  know  yours." 
141 


CHAPTER  XI 

A    NIGHT    ON    GUARD 

TWO  minutes  more,  with  eight  men  to 
back  him,  George  Graham  was  knock 
ing  or  sawing  out  holes  in  the  blacksmith- 
shop,  and  presently  a  man  with  a  reliable 
Winchester  was  crouched  by  each  opening 
watching  the  next  move  of  the  foe.  The 
shop  was  perched  at  the  edge  of  a  flat-topped 
"dump,"  commanding  the  rocky  slopes  to 
the  roadway  on  one  side,  the  hill  on  the 
other.  It  was  exposed  to  shots  from  below, 
yet  the  hardest  to  reach  by  direct  assault. 
In  the  larger  building  a  bit  farther  back, 
the  compressor-house,  Cawker  and  four  oth 
ers  were  stationed,  guarding  the  approach 
from  the  north.  The  manager  had  taken 
Nolan's  broad  hint,  and  the  subsequent 
orders,  with  one  long  look  of  amaze,  then 
with  the  light  of  comprehension  in  his  eyes 
142 


TO    THE    FRONT 

and  the  silence  of  consent  on  his  lips.  Did 
he  not  know  that  the  main  charge  against 
Nolan  had  been  loyalty  to  his  old  comrades 
rather  than  his  new  employers  ?  Did  he  not 
know,  or  at  least  more  than  suspect,  that  the 
company  was  trying  to  "freeze  out"  the 
distant  holders?  Did  he  not  know,  down  in 
his  heart,  that  it  was  out  and  out  robbery? 
And  now,  in  spite  of  youth  and  disguise,  the 
manager  saw  in  this  masterful  stranger  one 
of  the  very  elements  the  owners  had  sought 
to  keep  at  a  distance  and  in  ignorance  of 
true  conditions.  So  far  from  resenting,  he 
now  thanked  God  for  his  coming.  What 
else  could  explain  Nolan's  deference — Nolan, 
the  most  independent  and  self-respecting  man 
at  the  mines  ?  What  else  could  it  mean  but 
that  this  youth  was  one  of  his  officers — men 
skilled  and  schooled  in  warfare  if  not  in 
mining — men  taught  to  face  danger  with 
stout  heart  and  stubborn  front  ?  All  in  the 
space  of  a  few  seconds  the  truth  had  flashed 
upon  Cawker.  It  might  not  be  just  what  the 
owners  would  want,  thought  he,  but  it's 
almighty  good  for  us  all. 
M3 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Nolan,  with  a  handful  of  men,  still  clung 
to  the  stoutest  of  the  buildings.  It  stood 
without  the  entrance  to  the  ravine  in  which 
had  been  discovered  the  outcropping  that 
started  the  fame  of  Silver  Shield.  In  this, 
also,  stood  two  other  buildings,  but  these 
were  so  far  from  the  outer  shop  that  flames 
need  not  be  feared.  Nolan  was  to  care  for 
the  wounded  and  guard  the  outward  ap 
proach,  and  all  three  were  in  close  support 
of  each  other.  Whoever  managed  to  rush 
that  little  group  of  buildings  would  know, 
if  he  lived,  that  he  had  been  through  a  fight. 

And  now  it  was  after  six  of  the  long  sum 
mer  day.  The  rioters  had  received  a  whole 
some  lesson  in  the  volley  that  met  their  first 
attempt  to  swarm  up  from  the  south.  They 
had  gone  tumbling  and  cursing  back  to 
shelter,  with  three  men  wounded  and  many 
of  the  others  badly  scared,  and  now  were 
being  harangued  by  their  vociferous  leader, 
and  hundreds  had  come  to  hear.  Graham 
turned  to  the  young  Slav  who  had  borne  the 
first  news  to  Nolan.  "Creep  out  there  as 
far  as  you  can,"  he  ordered,  "listen  to  what 
144 


TO    THE    FRONT 

is  said,  and  tell  me.  They  cannot  reach 
you."  But  the  frightened  lad  crouched  and 
whimpered.  He  dared  not. 

"Come  on,  then,"  answered  Geordie,  grasp 
ing  the  stout  collar  of  the  hickory  shirt, 
and  come  he  had  to,  moaning  and  implor 
ing.  With  revolver  in  his  right  hand,  his 
unwilling  interpreter  in  the  left,  Geordie 
scrambled  down  to  the  roadway,  and  then, 
coming  in  view  of  the  gang,  crouched  with 
his  prisoner  behind  sheltering  bowlders,  re 
gardless  of  the  shots  which  began  to  hiss  from 
below.  The  speaker  was  still  shouting;  his 
words  were  easily  heard.  Yells  of  approval 
and  savage  delight  punctuated  every  other 
sentence.  "What  was  that?"  demanded 
Geordie,  as  the  applause  became  furious. 

"  He  say  they  make  circle — all  sides,  up 
hill,  sidehill,  downhill.  They  all  together  run 
in  when  he  give  the  word." 

"He  fights  like  a  Cheyenne,"  grinned  the 
young  commander.  "How  soon  do  they 
begin?" 

"Right  off;  now!  They  come  from  all 
round!"  was  the  almost  agonized  cry. 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"  Then  I  won't  have  to  lug  you  back.  You 
can  go!" 

And  like  a  frightened  hare  the  young  for 
eigner  darted  away,  dodging  and  diving  up 
the  slope,  only  to  fall  exhausted  at  the  top, 
and  then  to  creep  on  all-fours  to  the  shelter  of 
the  office.  Already  some  of  the  armed  rioters 
had  managed  to  climb  far  up  the  hill-side 
and  from  behind  rock  or  ledge  to  open  fire 
on  the  platform.  The  range  was  full  three 
hundred  yards,  their  aim  was  poor,  and  the 
bullets  flew  wild,  but  the  effect  on  this  poor 
lad  was  all  they  could  ask.  He  collapsed 
at  the  opening  door. 

Leisurely,  yet  cautiously,  Geordie  climbed 
in  his  tracks — went  first  to  the  office  to  give 
warning  to  Nolan,  then  round  to  the  com 
pressor  to  instruct  the  little  guard.  Cawker 
poked  a  head  from  a  window  and  looked 
anxiously  toward  the  gaping  mouth  of  the 
ravine.  The  darkness  of  night  was  already 
settling  in  its  gloomy  depths.  The  homely 
shed  looked  black  and  forbidding.  Aloft  on 
each  side  were  precipitous  slopes  affording 
but  slight  foothold.  Little  likelihood  was 
146 


TO    THE    FRONT 

there  of  rioters  sliding  down  to  attack  them, 
but,  suppose  they  pried  loose,  or  blasted  out, 
some  of  those  huge  rocks  up  the  mountain  and 
sent  them  rolling,  bounding,  crashing  down? 
What  might  then  happen? 

A  bullet  tearing  through  the  shingling,  ten 
feet  above  Cawker's  protruding  head,  made 
him  jerk  it  in,  like  a  turtle,  but  presently  it 
reappeared  at  the  window. 

11  It's  the  dynamite  I'm  thinking  of ,"  said 
he.  "A  rock  lighting  on  that  now — " 

"Where  is  it?"  interrupted  Graham. 

"In  that  first  shed  yonder  —  a  dozen 
boxes." 

"  Bring  two  men  and  come  along,"  was  the 
quick  order,  and  it  was  no  time  now  for 
reluctance,  resentment,  much  less  refusal. 
The  two  men  summoned  shrank  back  and 
would  not  come,  but  Cawker  found  two  who 
dared  to  follow.  It  was  a  case  of  "  duck  and 
run"  for  all. 

"Watch    the    hill-side    above!"    shouted 

Graham,  in  tones  that  rang  through  every 

building    and   reached    every   ear.     "Shoot 

down  every  man  that  tries  to  heave  rocks 

J47 


TO    THE    FRONT 

into  the  ravine,  or  fire  at  us.     We're  going 
to  move  that  dynamite." 

Once  within  the  shelter  of  the  gorge,  with 
comrades  carefully  sighting  the  slopes,  Geor- 
die  felt  the  danger  would  not  be  very  great. 
A  swift  rush  carried  all  four  over  the  open 
space  of  twenty  yards.  Three  or  four  shots 
came  zipping  from  aloft,  but  the  instant 
ring  of  Winchesters  back  of  them  told  that 
watchful  eyes  had  noted  every  head  that 
appeared,  and  the  swift  crackle  of  fire  from 
the  shop  put  instant  stop  to  the  fun  up  the 
slope.  Into  the  store-room  the  manager 
led  them,  and  unlocked  a  heavy  little  trap 
door  within;  then,  one  by  one,  the  ominous- 
looking  cases  were  dragged  forth,  hoisted, 
and  swiftly  borne  to  the  mouth  of  the  mine. 
Three  tunnels  there  seemed  to  be,  as  Geordie 
hurriedly  noted,  but  into  the  largest  and 
lowermost  they  shouldered  their  perilous  bur 
den  and  carefully,  cautiously,  stacked  the 
boxes  well  inside;  went  back,  and  searched 
out,  and  followed  with  all  the  fuse  and 
powder  stored  at  the  top.  Then,  with  rock 
and  ore  and  barrels  of  earth,  they  built  a 
148 


TO    THE    FRONT 

stout  barrier  in  front  of  the  tunnel,  blocking 
it  from  without,  and  the  sun  was  down  and 
night  was  upon  them  when  they  stumbled 
back  to  their  posts. 

For  now  still  a  weightier  problem  remained 
to  them — how  to  defend  those  works  in  the 
dark. 

In  all,  Geordie  Graham  found  they  had 
just  twenty  men  on  whom  he  could  count. 
The  trembling  young  Slav  at  the  blacksmith- 
shop,  the  blue-lipped  boy  in  the  office,  and 
sorely  wounded  old  Shiner  were  out  of  the 
fight.  But  Cawker's  mine-guards  were  na 
tive  born,  or  Irish,  and  most  of  the  reinforce 
ments  that  came  with  Nolan  and  himself 
were  Americans,  and  all  were  good  men  and 
true.  By  day  they  could  see  and  shoot  at 
any  man  or  men  who  sought  to  approach 
them  with  hostile  intent.  By  night  they 
could  see  nothing.  There  was  only  one  way, 
said  Graham,  to  prevent  the  more  daring 
among  the  rioters  crawling  in  on  them  and 
firing  some  of  the  shops,  and  that  was  to 
throw  out  strong  pickets  on  every  side,  then 
trust  to  their  ears,  their  grit,  and  their  guns. 
149 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Already  he  had  been  selecting  good  posi 
tions  in  which  to  post  his  sentries.  Ten  at 
least,  full  half  his  force,  would  be  needed, 
and  while  vigilant  watch  was  kept  through 
the  twilight,  and  a  warning  shot  sent  at 
every  hat  that  showed  within  dangerous 
range,  Geordie  went  from  building  to  build 
ing  picking  out  his  men. 

Arms,  ammunition,  and  provisions,  fort 
unately,  they  had  in  abundance.  The  com 
pany  had  long  since  seen  to  that.  Nolan 
already  had  set  "Blue  Lips"  to  work  build 
ing  a  fire  in  the  big  kitchen  stove  at  the 
office  and  setting  the  kettle  to  boil.  Coffee, 
hard  bread,  and  bacon,  with  canned  pork  and 
beans,  were  served  to  all  hands,  about  five 
at  a  time,  and  then,  with  Nolan  to  station  the 
watchers  on  the  south  and  west  fronts,  George 
and  his  five  stole  out  on  the  northward  slope, 
alert,  cautious,  and  silent,  moving  only  a  few 
paces  at  a  time. 

Afar  down  in  the  depths  of  the  valley  the 

clustered  lights  of  the  excited  town  shone 

brilliantly  through  the  gloaming.    Every  now 

and   then  through  the  surrounding  silence 

150 


TO    THE    FRONT 

came  the  bark  of  dogs,  the  shrill  voices  of 
clamoring  women,  and  occasionally  a  burst 
of  howls  and  yells.  Some  rude  orator  was 
still  preaching  death  and  destruction  to  a 
more  than  half -drunken  gang,  urging  them 
on  to  the  aid  of  their  brethren  up  the  levels 
above.  All  about  the  Silver  Shield,  how 
ever,  was  ominously  still.  Over  on  opposite 
heights  and  down  in  stray  gulches  could  be 
seen  the  flitting  lights  of  rival  establishments, 
and  away  to  the  west,  around  the  base  of  the 
mountain  where  the  railway  squirmed  by  the 
side  of  the  tortuous  stream,  two  or  three 
locomotive  -  engines,  on  stalled  trains,  had 
been  whistling  long  and  hard  for  aid.  All 
that  was  useless.  Above  for  a  mile,  below 
for  a  league,  the  track  had  been  torn  up  in 
places,  and  down  along  Silver  Run,  toward 
Hatch's  Cove  and  the  foot-hills,  culverts  and 
cuts  had  been  mined  and  blown  out  for  five 
miles  more.  No  sheriff's  posses  from  below, 
no  hated  Pinkertons,  no  despised  militia, 
no  dreaded  regulars,  should  come  to  the  aid 
of  Silver  Shield  till  there  was  nothing  left 
worth  saving. 

11  IS1 


TO    THE    FRONT 

And  up  here  on  the  northward  flank  of 
the  bold,  rounded  heights  that  overhung 
the  town,  and  harbored  now  both  besieged 
and  besiegers,  invisible  to  each  other  and  to 
the  lower  world  in  the  darkness,  Geordie 
Graham  lay  crouching  behind  a  little  bowlder, 
every  sense  on  edge,  for  to  his  left  front,  a 
little  higher  up,  he  could  distinctly  hear  low, 
gruff  voices,  confused  murmurings  and  move 
ments,  sounds  that  told  him  that,  relying  on 
their  overwhelming  numbers,  the  mob  was 
coming  slowly,  surely,  down  to  carry  out 
their  threat  to  fire  the  buildings  and  to 
finish  as  they  pleased  the  wretched  defenders. 

It  was  barely  nine  o'clock.  Below  him, 
perhaps  twenty  yards  downhill,  was  his 
nearest  sentry.  Above  him,  and  a  little 
retired,  was  another,  a  silent  young  German- 
American  who  had  been  at  the  head  of  the 
men  working  tunnel  Number  Two.  Beyond 
him  still,  and  thrown  back  toward  the  head 
of  the  ravine,  was  one  of  Cawker's  guard,  a 
sharp-eyed,  sharp-witted  chap  who  had 
seemed  at  first  to  chafe  at  Graham's  hints 
and  orders,  yet  had  acted  on  them.  And 


TO    THE    FRONT 

on  these  two,  so  far  as  sound  could  enable 
him  to  judge,  all  ignorant  of  their  presence 
and  purpose,  this  uncouth  mass  of  men  was 
bearing  down.  Winchester  in  hand  and,  as 
he  himself  said  later,  his  heart  in  his  mouth, 
Geordie  stole  swiftly  uphill  to  the  post  of 
the  German  and  found  him  kneeling  and  all 
aquiver  with  excitement.  He,  too,  had  just 
heard. 

"  Don't  fire  till  I  do,"  said  Graham.  "  I'll 
be  right  out  where  you  can  hear  me  chal 
lenge."  A  few  steps  higher  he  climbed,  and 
then  called  low  and  clear: 

"D'you  hear  them  coming,  guard?  Can 
you  see  anything?" 

And  the  answer  came  in  the  drawl  of  the 
Southland : 

"Hyuh  'em  plain  'nuff,  but  they  don't 
show  a  light  yet.  Reckon  they  don't  mean 
tuh." 

"  We'll  give  them  the  fill  of  our  magazines 
if  they  don't  halt  at  the  word.  Wait  till 
I  let  drive,  then  let  them  have  it!" 

And  so,  crouching  low,  straightforward 
along  the  slope  he  sped,  till,  perhaps  twenty 


TO    THE    FRONT 

yards  out,  the  black  bulk  of  the  mountain 
side  loomed  between  him  and  the  westward 
heaven,  while  against  the  stars  of  the  north 
ern  horizon  he  could  dimly  determine,  heav 
ing  steadily  toward  him,  not  fifty  paces 
away,  some  huge,  murmuring,  moving  mass. 
And  then  there  rang  out  on  the  silence  of  the 
night,  clear,  stern,  and  commanding,  a  voice 
the  like  of  which  their  ears  had  never  heard, 
in  words  that  even  they  could  not  fail  to 
comprehend : 

"Halt  where  you  are — or  we  fire!" 
There  was  an  instant  of  recoil  and  con 
fusion  and  fear.  Then  furious  tones  from 
far  back  in  the  throng  and  guttural  shoutings 
that  seemed  urging  them  on,  for,  presently, 
on  they  came,  but  in  the  silence  and  dread 
of  death. 

Back  went  the  lever  of  Graham's  Win 
chester;  slap  went  the  bolt  to  its  seat,  with 
the  shining  cartridge  ahead  of  it;  up  came 
the  butt  to  the  shoulder;  and  then,  once  more, 
that  deep,  virile  voice  rang  along  the  heights 
and  went  echoing  away  across  the  gorge. 
Back  at  the  mine  Nolan's  heart  leaped  at  the 


TO    THE    FRONT 

sound  of  it.  Away  down  in  the  village  they 
heard  it  and  shrank,  for  the  next  instant  set 
them  all  shrieking;  for  the  lightning  flashed 
and  the  rifles  barked  loud  and  swift,  and 
strong  men  howled  and  turned  and  fled, 
anywhere  out  of  the  way,  and  some  fell 
headlong,  screaming  and  cursing,  in  the  rush 
and  panic  that  spread  from  one  stern  and 
sudden  word — the  soldier  command:  "Fire!" 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE    MAN    OF    THE    SIEGE 

DOWN  in  the  valley  that  night  there  was 
commotion  and  uproar  for  hours,  but 
there  was  quiet  at  Silver  Shield.  One  after 
another  furious  speeches  were  made  in  foreign 
tongues,  speeches  in  which  the  murderous 
occupants  of  the  mine  buildings  were  doomed 
to  an  eternity  of  torment,  and  the  would-be 
murderous  element  among  the  miners  was 
lauded  to  the  skies  and  urged  to  further 
effort. 

But  the  astonishing  repulse,  the  fact  that 
they  had  been  met  in  the  open  as  well  as  in 
the  dark,  and  that  a  swift  and  sudden  fire 
had  been  poured  into  their  very  midst,  had 
shattered  the  nerve  of  men  already  shaken, 
although  it  later  turned  out  that  only  three 
of  their  number  had  really  been  shot  (two 
of  them  in  the  back) ,  and  that  twoscore  had 
156 


TO    THE    FRONT 

been  trampled  and  torn  by  their  own  people, 
while  some  thirty  or  more  were  missing,  "  left 
dead  on  the  hill,"  said  their  fellows,  in  the 
mad  rush  for  safety  that  followed  the  first 
flash.  That  sharp,  stern  order  and  the  in 
stant  response  had  started  the  rumor  that 
soldiers,  regulars,  had  come  up  from  the  fort. 
It  was  pointed  out  that  while  the  Trans 
continental  was  blocked  down  the  Run, 
no  one  had  thought  to  cripple  the  Narrow 
Gauge  over  in  the  valley  beyond.  The  road 
was  open  to  Miners'  Joy,  the  road  by  which 
young  Breifogle  had  made  his  escape,  and 
by  this  roundabout  route  had  succor  reached 
the  besieged  garrison. 

All  that  liquor  and  eloquence  could  do  was 
tried  on  the  raging  townsmen  that  night, 
but  not  until  broad  daylight  could  they  be  in 
duced  to  make  another  trial,  and  by  that  time 
few  were  able  to  keep  their  feet  on  the  level. 

Less  than  half  a  dozen  shots  from  each  of 
five  Winchesters  had  been  enough,  combined 
with  darkness,  to  utterly  rout  the  mass  of 
rioters.  Mindful  of  the  lesson  well  learned 
at  the  Point — to  instantly  follow  a  staggering 


TO    THE    FRONT 

blow — Graham  had  sprung  from  his  cover, 
called  to  his  fellows  to  "come  on,"  and 
so,  shouting  and  shooting  at  the  very  heels 
of  the  panic,  had  not  only  chased  them  in 
headlong  flight,  but,  returning,  had  picked 
up  half  a  dozen  terrified  prisoners  and  herded 
them  back  to  Nolan  for  such  reassurance  and 
comfort  as  that  grim  old  trooper  saw  fit  to 
administer.  When  morning  broke  the  depths 
of  the  valley  were  still  shrouded  in  mist  and 
gloom.  Up  on  the  heights  the  brilliant  hues 
of  the  dawn  shone  far  and  wide  on  rocky 
peak  and  pinnacle  and,  above  the  wooden 
tower  of  the  office  building,  on  the  fluttering 
folds  of  an  American  flag. 

That  was  a  grewsome  day  on  Lance  Creek. 
Four  of  the  mines,  temporarily  bereft  of 
hands,  had  fired  up  and  gone  to  work  with 
such  force  as  they  had,  and  declined  to  take 
back  the  men  who  had  quit.  The  managers, 
superintendents,  bosses,  and  owners  held 
council  together  and  started  out  with  what 
they  termed  a  relief  expedition  to  rescue  the 
garrison  of  Silver  Shield.  They  were  seen  as 
they  came  solemnly  marching  uphill,  waving 

158 


TO    THE    FRONT 

a  white  flag  by  way  of  assurance,  and  were 
met  on  the  roadway  by  Nolan  and  Geordie. 
Cawker  was  taking  a  much-needed  nap. 

"Are  you  all  safe?"  was  the  eager  question 
from  below. 

"Safe  from  what?"  asked  Nolan,  from 
above. 

"Why,  the  mob,  the  rioters.  Didn't  they 
try  to  clean  you  out  last  night?" 

"Did  they?"  asked  Nolan  turning  to  his 
silent  young  friend  the  fireman.  "  Was  that 
what  those  fellows  were  thinking  of  that  you 
chased  off  the  hill?  Why,  maybe  it  was! 
But  here,  what  we  came  down  to  find  out 
was  about  Shiner's  boy.  How's  he?" 

Then  the  rescuers  looked  at  one  another 
in  some  bewilderment.  The  leaders  were 
friends  of  Cawker.  They  hardly  knew  No 
lan.  They  did  not  know  his  companion  the 
fireman. 

"D'you  mean  to  tell  us  you've  had  no 
trouble  up  there?"  was  the  eager  demand. 

"Why,  lots  of  it,  four  days  ago — 't  least  7 
had,"  answered  Nolan,  grimly,  "but  nothin' 
worth  mention  last  night." 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"Why,  man,"  cried  the  manager  of  the 
White  Eagle,  "there  were  a  thousand  riotous 
Bohemians  and  Dagoes,  and  Lord  knows 
what  all,  went  up  there  last  night  to  burn 
those  buildings  over  your  heads  and  you 
with  'em." 

"Why,  cert'nly,"  said  Nolan,  with  preter 
natural  gravity  and  a  wink  at  his  comrade, 
who  was  doing  his  utmost  to  keep  a  straight 
face.  "  It  must  have  been  some  of  those 
fellows  you  blew  in  about  ten  o'clock.  But 
say,"  he  broke  off,  as  though  this  matter 
bored  him,  "  what  we  want  to  know  is  about 
Shiner's  boy.  They  didn't  seem  to  have 
time  to  talk." 

By  which  time  it  dawned  upon  the  officials 
present  that  Nolan  was  having  fun  with 
them,  and  though  the  spokesmen  were  net 
tled,  many  others,  with  genuine  American 
sense  of  humor,  felt  that  he  couldn't  be 
blamed. 

"Your  name  is  Nolan,  I  think,"  said  a  man 

from    the    Denver.     "We've    heard  of  you. 

Shiner's  boy  is  better,    though   still   weak. 

You  mustn't  feel  we  left  you  to  shift  for  your- 

160 


TO    THE    FRONT 

selves  up  there.  Our  men  were  all  out,  and 
we  didn't  know  how  soon  they'd  be  swooping 
on  us.  'Twasn't  until  last  night  it  was  gen 
erally  known  that  you  were  back,  and  that 
you  and  your  friends  were  what  saved  Cawker 
and  the  Silver  Shield  yesterday.  How's  he?" 

"Cawker?  Oh,  Cawker's  probably  about 
got  dinner  ready  for  you  gentlemen  by  this 
time.  If  you  are  sure  about  Shiner  we  won't 
go  down." 

"Go  down?  Why,  Nolan,  they'd  murder 
you!" 

But  there  came  a  sudden  shot,  and  then  a 
shout,  from  somewhere  uphill.  On  the  edge 
of  the  dump  a  man  was  eagerly  waving  his 
hat,  pointing  away  to  the  northeast  along  the 
massive  slope  of  the  mountain. 

"Well,  Mr.  Fireman,"  said  Nolan,  "I 
guess  we'll  have  to  go  back.  But  you  are 
sure  about  Shiner,  are  you?" — this  again  to 
the  visitors,  as  he  persisted  in  calling  them. 
"Well,  come  right  along  up  and  see  the  old 
man  himself.  Dinner  ought  to  be  ready 
now." 

But,  once  back  at  the  buildings,  Nolan  left 
161 


TO    THE    FRONT 

to  Cawker  and  his  guard  the  pleasure  of  re 
ceiving  the  crowd  from  across  the  creek. 
He  and  Geordie  were  needed  at  once  at  the 
lookout  on  top  of  the  office,  the  little  tower 
above  which  fluttered  the  flag.  Down  on 
the  platform  anxious  faces  were  upturned, 
for  the  sentry  had  seen  a  countless  throng 
of  men,  so  he  said,  coming  over  from  Miners' 
Joy.  To  Cawker  and  his  fellows  it  meant 
but  one  thing :  The  miners  in  the  northward 
valley,  more  numerous  than  these  along 
Lance  Creek,  reinforced,  probably,  by  a 
swarm  of  the  idlers  from  Hatch's  Cove,  were 
coming  to  the  aid  of  their  friends  and  fellow- 
countrymen  in  the  strike  at  Silver  Shield. 

For  two  miles  out  the  road  from  the  village 
meandered  up  a  winding  ravine,  then  went 
twisting  and  turning  along  the  eastward  face 
of  the  mountain  until  it  dipped  out  of  sight 
over  the  massive  divide.  Down  in  the  depths 
of  the  gorge  little  dots  of  men  could  be  seen 
hurrying  away  up  the  trail  as  though  going 
to  meet  the  coming  concourse.  Away  out 
along  the  mountain-side  not  to  exceed  three 
or  four  vehicles  and  a  scant  dozen  of  horse- 
162 


TO    THE    FRONT 

men  could  dimly  be  made  out,  crawling 
slowly  southward,  coming  gingerly  towards 
them.  Where,  then,  was  the  "  countless 
throng"? 

"They  were  in  sight  on  yonder  ridge," 
said  the  lookout,  "not  ten  minutes  ago. 
They  must  be  hiding  in  the  hollows,  waiting 
for  the  others  to  catch  up,"  whereupon  Nolan, 
looking  daggers,  had  called  him  a  scarehead, 
and  Geordie  shouted  for  Cawker's  glass. 
It  was  sent  up  the  stairway  in  less  than  a 
minute  and  focussed  on  Porphyry  Point,  a 
massive  buttress  overhanging  the  farther 
valley.  For  long  seconds  Geordie  steadied 
the  binocular  against  the  staff  and  peered 
silently  through.  At  last  he  said:  "Some 
riders  and  two  or  three  livery-rigs  are  com 
ing,  but  I  see  no  men  afoot."  Then,  turning 
over  his  shoulder  to  Cawker,  standing  in  the 
midst  of  his  friends  and  fellow-managers,  and 
looking  eagerly  aloft,  he  called:  "  Better  have 
dinner  now,  if  it's  ready.  It  will  take  'em 
an  hour  to  get  here." 

"Who  is  that  young  fellow,  anyhow?" 
asked  Townsend,  of  the  Vanguard  Mine,  and 
163 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the   ears   of   a   score   of   men   awaited   the 
answer. 

"That  young  feller,"  said  Cawker,  in  low 
tone,  and  impressively,  "was  a  stranger  to 
every  one  here,  except  old  Nolan  and  Shiner, 
just  twenty-four  hours  ago.  Now  there  ain't 
one  of  'em  but  swears  by  him.  I  don't  know 
him  from  Adam,  and  Nolan  won't  tell,  but, 
gentlemen — that  young  feller's  a  dandy!" 

And  this  of  a  youth  in  grimy  cap,  flannels, 
and  overalls,  with  a  pair  of  smouched  soldier 
gauntlets  hiding  the  white  of  his  hands,  and 
a  coating  of  coal-dust  and  smudge  hiding  all 
but  the  clear,  healthy  white  of  his  eyes! 

But  an  hour  later  came  at  least  partial 
enlightenment.  Picking  their  way,  afoot  and 
a  few  in  saddle,  welcomed  by  shouts  from 
the  lately  besieged,  and  escorted  by  a  deputa 
tion  sent  forward  to  meet  them,  there  began 
to  arrive  certain  citizens  well  known  to  the 
neighborhood  by  name  and  reputation. 

There  was  the  sheriff  of  Yampah,  with  a 

small    squad   of    deputies.     There   was   the 

mayor  of  Argenta,  a  director  in  the  mines, 

and  with  him,  puffing  prodigiously  and  slowly 

164 


TO    THE    FRONT 

up  the  ramp  from  the  wagon -road,  two 
brother  directors  away  out  from  Denver. 
There  were  certain  prominent  citizens  of 
Argenta  and  Hatch's  Cove.  There  were  cer 
tain  railway  men,  with  men  and  tools  at  their 
back  and  no  time  to  waste.  There  were  two 
men  in  civilian  dress  whom  many  a  man  of 
Silver  Run  knew  for  soldiers  at  once,  for  as 
such  had  they  known  them  before — Captain 
Lee  and  Quartermaster  McCrea  of  the  old 
— th  Cavalry — and  there  had  been  a  remark 
able  meeting  and  hand-shaking  between  them 
and  Nolan,  and  a  whispered  confabulation, 
at  the  end  of  which  the  two  dove  into  the 
office  building  where  Shiner  still  lay,  com 
forted  by  better  news  of  his  boy,  by  good 
surgical  aid,  and  by  a  skilful  and  competent 
nurse  who,  for  more  than  one  reason,  pre 
ferred  to  keep  out  of  sight  for  the  time  being. 
There  had  been  a  face-to-face  meeting  be 
tween  sergeant  and  sheriff  when  Nolan  came 
forth  from  a  rapturous  scene  at  old  Shiner's 
bedside.  But  this  time  the  sheriff  looked 
sheepish,  and  there  was  no  talk  of  arrest. 
Young  Breifogle,  it  seems,  would  not  die  of 
165 


TO    THE    FRONT 

his  wounds.     One  of  the  culprits  had  "  split " 
and  the  real  assailants  were  known. 

And  there  had  been  a  fine  shower  of  con 
gratulation  on  Cawker  for  his  heroic  defence 
and  determined  stand  against  tremendous 
odds,  and  the  three  magnates  present  of 
Silver  Shield  had  begun  with  much  unction 
to  talk  of  reward  and  appreciation,  and  very 
probably  Cawker  felt  both  heroic  and  de 
serving,  and  quite  ready  to  accept  all  credit 
and  pay,  but  there  were  too  many  witnesses, 
too  many  wise  men,  too  many  suggestive 
smiles  and  snickers  and  audible  remarks, 
and  Cawker  had  sense  to  see  and  then  to  rise 
manfully  to  the  occasion. 

"We  did  the  best  we  knew  how,  gentle 
men,"  said  he,  "but  I  am  bound  to  say 
Silver  Shield  would  have  been  in  ruins  this 
minute,  and  most  of  us  dead,  if  it  hadn't 
been  for  Nolan — the  man  you  ordered  thrown 
out." 

There  was  a  silence  almost  dramatic  for  a 
moment. 

"Who  ordered  him  thrown  out?"  asked 
Mr.  Stoner,  of  Denver. 
166 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"  The  directors,  sir,  unless  young  Mr.  Brei- 
fogle  lied.  These  men  are  my  witnesses." 

And  the  answer  came  straightway. 

"  No  such  orders  were  given  by  the  board.  If 
Mr.  Breifogle  gave  them,  they  were  his  alone." 

Whereupon  a  shout  went  up  that  shook  the 
roof.  But  the  end  was  not  yet.  Nolan  was 
dragged  forward  to  be  grasped  by  the  hand 
and  smothered  with  congratulations,  and  old 
Nolan,  in  turn,  would  have  none  of  it.  A  doz 
en  men  had  seized  Geordie  Graham,  even  as 
his  classmates  and  comrades  had  chaired  him 
a  few  weeks  back  at  the  Point,  and  black, 
grimy,  and  protesting,  he  was  heaved  forward 
and  deposited  in  front  of  the  astonished  trio. 
But  the  shout  that  went  up  from  all  sides  was 
significant.  Lee  and  McCrea  were  shouting,  too. 

"More  heroes?"  asked  Mr.  Stoner,  wide- 
eyed  and  uncomprehending.  "Well  —  er, 
Nolan,  they  told  us  on  the  way  over  that 
there  must  be  a  hundred  soldiers  here." 

"That's  about  right,  sir,"  grinned  Nolan; 
then,  reaching  forth,  he  laid  a  hand  lightly  on 
Graham's  broad  shoulder,  "and  here  stands 
— most  of  'em." 

xa  167 


CHAPTER   XIII 

AWAY     ON    THE     WARPATH 

A^D  all  these  chapters  it  has  taken  to  tell 
how  it  came  about  that  Second  Lieu 
tenant  George  Montrose  Graham  was  quite 
a  celebrity  in  the  — th  Cavalry  before  ever 
he  reported  for  duty  with  his  troop.  Several 
weeks  the  Silver  Shield  Mining  Company 
spent  in  a  squabble  among  themselves  that 
ended  in  the  smothering  of  "the  Breifogle 
interest,"  and  came  near  to  sending  "the 
Boss  of  Argenta"  to  jail.  Several  days 
elapsed  before  Captain  Lee  and  Lieutenants 
McCrea  and  Graham  felt  it  entirely  prudent 
to  leave,  but  when  they  did  it  was  with  the 
assurance  that  stockholders  who  had  en 
dured  to  the  end,  as  had  Graham,  Lee,  and 
McCrea,  were  now  to  reap  the  reward  of  their 
tenacity. 

It  is  a  recorded  fact  that,  within  three 
1 68 


TO    THE    FRONT 

weeks  after  the  departure  of  McCrea  and 
Geordie  from  West  Point  for  the  West,  there 
came  an  offer  to  Dr.  Graham  of  something 
like  six  times  the  cost  price  of  his  shares, 
and  the  offer  was  declined,  with  thanks. 

It  is  a  recorded  fact  that  Silver  Shield  was 
reorganized  within  the  summer,  to  the  end 
that  the  controlling  interest  passed  from 
Colorado  to  Chicago. 

It  is  a  recorded  fact  that,  from  afar  out 
in  the  Rockies,  there  came  to  Lieutenant 
Colonel  Hazzard,  Commandant  of  Cadets,  a 
"wire"  that  puzzled  him  not  a  little  until 
he  laid  it  before  his  clear-headed  wife,  who 
gave  him  a  delighted  kiss  and  scurried  away 
to  show  it  to  Mrs.  Graham.  It  read : 

"You  win.  I  lose;  and,  losing,  am  a  heavy 
winner." 

For  Bonner  had  supplied  the  money  that 
paid  for  much  of  that  costly  plant,  most  of 
which  would  have  gone  up  in  smoke  and  down 
in  ruin  could  the  mob  have  had  its  way. 
Bonner  himself  had  rushed  out  to  Denver 
at  news  of  the  trouble.  Bonner  sent  for 
Cawker  and  Nolan,  and  others  of  the  em- 
169 


TO    THE    FRONT 

ploy6s,  and  learned  for  himself  how  things 
had  been  going,  and  was  not  too  civil  to 
Stoner  and  his  Denver  colleagues.  Bonner, 
a  director  in  the  Transcontinental,  heard 
from  Anthony  and  Cullin  all  about  the 
young  fireman  they  spirited  up  to  the  mines, 
and  the  elder  Breifogle  had  to  hear  how  that 
young  fireman  cared  for  the  battered  son 
and  heir,  after  his  "beating  up'*  at  the  fists 
and  feet  of  the  rioters,  and  if  Breifogle  bore 
no  love  for  the  Grahams,  he  at  least  loved 
his  own. 

It  is  a  recorded  fact  that  old  Shiner  got 
well  of  his  wound  after  many  long  weeks,  and 
his  brave  boy  in  much  shorter  time,  and  that 
both  were  handsomely  rewarded.  Cawker 
came  in  for  a  good  thing  by  way  of  a  raise, 
but  it  was  Long  Nolan  whom  Bonner  and 
the  magnates  set  on  a  pinnacle — Long  Nolan, 
and,  as  Nolan  would  have  it,  Nolan's  young 
commander. 

It  is  a  matter  of  record  that  when  Captain 
Lee  went  back  to  the  regiment  he  congrat 
ulated  Lane,  for  one  thing,  on  having  held 
on  to  his  stocks — almost  the  only  one  at 
170 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Reno  who  did — and,  for  another,  on  having 
such  a  youngster  for  second  lieutenant.  "  He 
has  won  his  spurs,"  said  Lee,  "before  ever 
he  donned  his  uniform."  And  there  was 
rejoicing  in  the  regiment  over  Lee's  descrip 
tion  of  events,  for  five  of  the  younger  officers, 
graduated  within  three  years,  knew  "Pops" 
in  his  cadet  days  and  remembered  him  well; 
and  all  of  the  old  officers  who  had  served 
at  Camp  Sandy  and  at  Fort  Reynolds  knew 
him  in  babyhood,  or  boyhood,  or  both.  So 
did  most  of  the  veteran  troopers. 

And  it  is  a  matter  of  record  that,  on 
the  eastward  way  again,  both  McCrea  and 
Geordie  dined  with  Mr.  Bonner  at  the  Chi 
cago  Club,  and  the  new  major-general  com 
manding  the  military  division  graciously  ac 
cepted  Bonner's  bid  to  be  one  of  the  dinner 
party,  and  took  Geordie  aside  after  coffee 
had  been  served,  noting  that  the  silent  young 
fellow  neither  smoked  nor  touched  his  wine, 
and  asked  him  a  few  questions  about  the 
Point  and  many  about  the  mines,  and  at 
parting  the  general  was  so  good  as  to  ex 
press  the  wish  that  when  Geordie  came  out  to 
171 


TO    THE    FRONT 

join  in  September  he  would  stop  and  see  him, 
all  of  which  was  very  flattering  to  a  young 
fellow  just  out  of  cadet  gray,  and  Geordie, 
as  in  duty  bound,  said  that  he  certainly 
would,  little  dreaming  how  soon — how  very 
soon — he  and  the  old  regiment  would  be 
riding  hard  under  the  lead  of  that  hard- 
riding  leader,  and  facing  a  foe  led  by  war 
riors  true  and  tried — a  foe  any  ten  of  whom 
could  have  made  mince-meat  of  ten  times 
their  number  of  such  foemen  as  Graham  had 
met  at  the  mines. 

How  could  they,  the  brave  young  class, 
have  dreamed,  that  exquisite  June  day  of 
their  graduation,  that  within  six  months  some 
of  their  number  were  destined  to  do  desperate 
battle  with  a  desperate  band  of  the  braves 
of  the  allied  Sioux  in  the  Bad  Lands  of  South 
Dakota? 

For  it  is  also  a  matter  of  record  that 
Lieutenant  and  Quartermaster  McCrea  made 
application,  as  he  had  promised,  for  six 
months'  leave  of  absence,  with  permission 
to  go  beyond  sea,  and  with  every  intention 
of  spending  most  of  the  winter  in  sunny 
172 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Italy.  But  he  spent  it  in  saddle  and  snow 
drift,  in  scout  and  skirmish,  and  in  at  least 
one  sharp,  stinging,  never-to-be-forgotten  bat 
tle  with  the  combined  bands  of  the  Sioux, 
and  came  within  an  ace  of  losing  his  life  as 
well  as  his  leave,  for  many  a  brave  soldier 
and  savage  warrior  fell  in  that  bitter  fight — 
Geordie  Graham's  maiden  battle.  Little  won 
der  he  hopes  he  may  never  see  another  like  it. 
And  it  all  came  about  as  such  affairs  have 
so  often  occurred  in  the  past.  Unheeded 
warnings,  unnoted  threats,  unpunished  out 
breaks,  that  experienced  soldiers  about  the 
reservation  could  readily  understand,  and 
foretell  what  was  coming,  and  make  their 
own  individual  preparations  for  the  inevi 
table.  But  nothing  they  could  report  to 
superiors  would  shake  the  serene  confidence 
of  the  Department  of  the  Interior  in  the 
pacific  purposes  of  its  red  children,  the  wards 
of  the  nation.  All  along  in  the  summer  and 
the  early  autumn  the  "  ghost  -  dance "  had 
been  spreading  from  tribe  to  tribe,  the  war 
drum  had  been  thumping  in  the  villages,  the 
Indian  messiah,  a  transparent  fraud,  as  all 


TO    THE    FRONT 

might  see,  wandered  unrebuked  from  band 
to  band — half  a  dozen  messiahs,  in  fact — 
and  along  in  September,  instead  of  Geordie 
Graham's  best -loved  chum  and  classmate, 
Connell,  of  the  Engineers,  there  came  to  the 
Point  a  letter  from  that  young  officer,  that 
Graham  received  with  rejoicing,  read  with 
troubled  eyes,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his 
life  kept  from  his  mother.  There  came  a 
time,  later  still,  when  there  were  many 
letters  to  be  kept  from  her,  but  those  sorrow 
ful  days  were  not  as  yet.  This  letter,  how 
ever,  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  show  her, 
for  it  told  of  things  she  had  been  dreading  to 
hear  ever  since  the  papers  began  telling  of 
the  ghost-dancing  on  the  plains.  It  read: 

"PECATONICA,  WISCONSIN,  September  $th. 
"DEAR  POPS, — I  fully  intended  to  be  with  you 
to  spend  a  week  as  promised,  before  joining  at 
Willett's  Point,  but  you  are  more  likely  to  be 
spending  that  week  with  me.  I  am  just  back  from 
a  run  to  the  Black  Hills  with  father.  He  has  some 
property  about  Deadwood.  Returning,  I  stopped 
two  days  at  Fort  Niobrara,  as  the  guest  of  '  Samp 
son'  Stone,  whose  troop  is  stationed  there,  and  I 
tell  you  it  was  interesting.  He  took  me  up  to  the 
reservation,  and  I  had  my  first  look  at  the  Sioux 
174 


TO    THE    FRONT 

on  their  native  heath,  and  saw  for  myself  how 
peaceful  they  are.  Everybody  at  the  agency  is 
scared  stiff.  Every  officer  at  the  fort,  from  the 
colonel  down,  is  convinced  that  war  is  coming. 
The  governor  of  Nebraska  has  been  up  looking 
after  the  settlers  and  ranch  folk  and  warning  them 
away.  General  Miles  has  an  officer  there  watching 
the  situation.  From  him  I  heard  that  your  regi 
ment  is  to  be  sent  to  the  field  at  once  to  march 
northward;  that  other  troops  are  warned,  and  I 
suppose  you'll  be  joining  somewhere  on  the  way. 
But  the  row,  when  it  comes,  will  break  out  north 
of  the  Niobrara,  and  the  — th  may  not  get  there 
in  time. 

"Stone  says  if  you  want  a  taste  of  the  real  thing, 
to  apply  for  orders  to  report  for  duty  to  the  com 
manding  officer  at  Fort  Niobrara  until  the  arrival 
of  your  regiment.  I  have  begged  the  Chief  of 
Engineers  to  let  me  have  a  few  weeks  in  the  field 
with  General  Miles,  and  am  assured  that  the  general 
will  apply  for  me.  Not  that  I  can  be  of  any  value 
as  Engineer  Officer,  but  just  to  get  the  experience, 
and  perhaps  see  what  we've  been  reading  of  a 
dozen  years — a  real  Indian  campaign.  Now,  old 
man,  you  know  that  country.  You  were  there 
as  a  boy.  You  could  be  of  use.  Why  not  ask  for 
orders  at  once?  Then  we  can  push  out  via  Sioux 
City  together.  I  know  how  the  mother  will  pro 
test,  especially  since  she  was  robbed  of  three  pre 
cious  weeks  in  July;  but,  isn't  it  the  chance  of  a 
lifetime?  Isn't  this  what  we  are  for,  after  all? 
Wire  decision.  Yours  as  ever, 

"CONNELL." 
175 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"Good  old  Badger,"  murmured  Geordie. 
"He  always  was  right."  Then  that  letter 
went  to  an  inner  pocket,  and  for  the  first 
time  in  his  life,  with  something  to  conceal 
from  her,  George  Graham  turned  to  his 
mother. 

It  was  a  beautiful  September  evening. 
The  gray  -  and  -  white  battalion  had  just 
formed  for  parade.  The  throng  of  spectators 
lined  the  roadway  in  front  of  the  superintend 
ent's  quarters,  and  with  that  proud  mother 
clinging  as  usual  to  his  arm,  with  that 
ominous  letter  in  the  breast  of  his  sack-coat, 
so  close  that  her  hand  by  a  mere  turn  of  the 
wrist  could  touch  it,  George  Graham  stood 
silently  beside  her  as  she  chatted  happily 
with  Mrs.  Hazzard.  Not  ten  feet  distant, 
leaning  on  a  cane,  was  an  officer  lamed  for 
life  and  permanently  retired  from  service 
because  of  a  desperate  wound  received  in 
savage  warfare.  With  him,  eagerly  talking, 
was  a  regimental  comrade  who  had  survived 
the  bloody  day  on  the  Little  Big  Horn,  and 
he  was  telling  of  things  he  had  seen  and  men 
whom  he  had  met,  men  whose  names  were 
176 


TO    THE    FRONT 

famous  among  the  Sioux  and  were  now  on 
the  lips  of  the  nation  at  large.  Foremost  of 
these  was  the  old-time  enemy  of  every  white 
man,  long  the  leader  of  the  most  powerful 
band  that  ever  disputed  the  dominion  of  the 
West,  Tatanka  lyotanka — Sitting  Bull. 

Not  fifty  miles  from  Standing  Rock 
Agency,  surrounded  by  devoted  followers, 
dwelling  in  Indian  ease  and  comfort,  but 
rejoicing  in  new  opportunities  for  evil,  Sit 
ting  Bull,  said  the  spokesman,  was  holding 
frequent  powwows  with  the  ghost -dancers, 
urging,  exciting,  encouraging  all,  and  still 
the  Indian  Bureau  would  not  —  and  the 
army,  therefore,  could  not — interfere.  Every 
where  from  the  Yellowstone  to  the  confines 
of  Nebraska  the  young  braves  of  the  allied 
bands  were  swarming  forth  and  holding  their 
fierce  and  ominous  rites,  and  the  autumn  air 
of  the  Dakotas  rang  with  the  death  song  and 
war-whoop.  The  blood  craze  was  upon  them 
and  would  not  down.  The  messiah  had  ap 
peared  to  chief  after  chief,  warning  him  the 
time  had  come  to  rise  and  sweep  the  white 
invaders  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  promis- 


TO    THE    FRONT 

ing  as  reward  long  years  of  plenty  and 
prosperity,  the  return  of  the  vanished  buffalo, 
the  resurrection  of  their  famous  dead,  a 
savage  millennium  the  thought  of  which  was 
more  than  enough  to  array  the  warriors  for 
battle.  "It's  coming;  it's  bound  to  come!" 
said  the  captain,  in  his  decisive  way,  "and 
if  old  Bull  isn't  choked  off  speedily  we'll 
have  work  for  a  dozen  regiments  as  well  as 


ours." 


Graham  listened,  fascinated,  yet  praying 
his  mother  might  not  hear.  Secure  in  the 
possession  of  her  stalwart  son,  full  of  joy 
in  their  present  and  pride  in  his  past,  she 
chatted  merrily  on.  Mrs.  Frazier,  too,  had 
joined  them,  another  woman  who  had  reason 
to  rejoice  in  Geordie's  prowess  at  Silver 
Shield.  They  were  so  blithely,  busily,  en 
gaged  that  he  presently  managed  to  slip 
unobserved  away  and  join  the  little  group 
about  the  speaker.  Colonel  Hazzard,  too, 
was  there  and  held  forth  a  cordial  hand  to 
the  new-comer.  Geordie's  father  never  be 
trayed  half  the  pride  in  him  that  the  colonel 
frankly  owned  to. 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"This  must  interest  you  not  a  little,"  said 
he. 

"More  than  I  can  tell  you,  sir,"  was  the 
quick  answer.  "  More  than  I  dare  let  mother 
know!  But  I  have  come  for  advice.  I've 
a  letter  from  Mr.  Connell.  Read  it,  sir,  and 
tell  me  how  to  go  about  it.  Before  mother 
can  get  wind  of  it,  I  want  orders  to  report  at 
Niobrara." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

A    SCOUT    FOR    THE    SIOUX 

THE  dawn  of  an  autumn  day  was  break 
ing  over  a  barren  and  desolate  land 
scape.  The  mist  was  rising  from  the  silent 
pools  of  the  narrow  stream  that  alternately 
lay  in  lazy  reaches  and  sped  leaping  and 
laughing  in  swift  rapid  over  pebbly  bed — 
the  Mini  Chaduza  of  the  Sioux.  The  sun 
was  still  far  below  the  eastward  horizon,  but 
the  clouds  were  gorgeous  with  his  livery  of 
red  and  gold,  and  the  stars  had  shrunk  from 
sight  before  the  ardor  of  his  beams.  The 
level  " bench"  through  which  the  stream 
meandered,  the  billowing  slopes  to  the  north 
and  south,  were  bare  of  foliage  and  unin 
viting  to  the  eye,  yet  keen  and  wary  eyes 
were  scanning  their  bald  expanse,  studying 
every  crest  and  curve  and  ridge  in  search  of 
moving  objects.  Only  at  the  very  brink  of 
1 80 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  flowing  waters,  and  only  in  far-scattered 
places  along  the  stream,  little  clumps  of 
cottonwood-trees  gave  proof  that  nature  had 
not  left  the  valley  utterly  without  shade  and 
refuge  when  the  summer's  sun  beamed  hotly 
down  upon  the  lower  lands  of  the  Dakotas. 
And  now  only  among  these  scattered  oases 
could  even  practised  eyes  catch  any  sign  of 
life. 

Here  and  there  under  the  banks  and 
shielded  from  outer  view,  near-by  watchers 
might  discover  little,  dull-red  patches  glow 
ing  dimly  in  the  semi-darkness.  Here  and 
there  among  the  timber  and  along  the  brink 
little  groups  of  dark  objects,  shifting  slowly 
about,  betrayed  the  presence  of  animal  life, 
and  afar  out  upon  the  prairie  slopes  tiny 
black  spots  on  every  side,  perhaps  a  dozen  in 
all,  told  the  plains-practised  eye  that  here 
was  a  cavalry  bivouac  —  a  little  detached 
force  of  Uncle  Sam's  blue-shirted  troopers, 
thrown  out  from  the  shelter  of  fort  or  gar 
rison,  and  lurking  for  some  purpose  in  the 
heart  of  the  Indian  country. 

For  Indians  there  were  by  scores  right 
181 


TO    THE    FRONT 

here  at  the  old  antelope  crossing  only  the 
night  before.  The  sands  of  the  ford  were 
still  trampled  by  myriad  hoofs  of  ponies  and 
streaked  by  the  dragging  poles  of  the  travois. 
The  torn  earth  on  the  northward  rise  out  of 
the  stream  was  still  wet  and  muddy  from 
the  drip  of  shaggy  breast  and  barrel  of  their 
nimble  mounts.  No  need  to  call  up  Iron 
Shield  or  Baptiste  or  young  Touch- the - 
Skies,  Sioux  scouts  from  the  agency,  to 
interpret  the  signs  and  point  the  way.  The 
major  commanding  and  all  his  officers  and 
most  of  his  men  could  read  the  indications 
as  well  as  the  half  -  breeds,  natives  to  the 
soil.  A  big  band  of  young  warriors,  with  a 
few  elders,  had  yielded  to  the  eloquence  of 
the  messengers  of  Sitting  Bull  and  were  out 
for  mischief.  They  had  been  missing  from 
the  agencies  several  weeks;  had  been  ghost- 
dancing  with  their  fellows  from  Pine  Ridge 
to  the  west,  and  were  by  this  time  probably 
on  their  way  to  swell  the  ranks  and  stiffen 
the  back  of  that  big  chief  of  the  Minniconjou 
Sioux — "Big  Foot, "as  known  to  the  whites, 
Si  Tanka,  as  known  to  the  Indian  Bureau, 
182 


TO    THE    FRONT 

and  "Spotted  Elk,"  so  said  Iron  Shield,  the 
scout,  as  known  to  the  Sioux  themselves. 

A  famous  character  was  Si  Tanka.  Next 
to  Sitting  Bull,  now  that  Gall  was  out  of  the 
way,  dying  of  illness  and  old  age,  Si  Tanka 
had  more  influence  than  any  chief  afield, 
and  he  longed  to  be  acknowledged  head  of 
the  allied  Sioux.  He  had  been  to  Washing 
ton,  had  been  photographed  side  by  side  with 
Mr.  Elaine  on  the  steps  of  the  Capitol;  had 
sold  to  the  whites  the  right  of  way  for  a 
railway  through  his  Cheyenne  River  lands. 
He  belonged  to  the  Cheyenne  River  Agency 
far  to  the  east,  and  declined  to  live  there. 
He  had  his  own  village  up  in  the  Cherry 
Creek  country,  midway  between  the  troops 
at  Fort  Meade  in  the  Black  Hills  and  Fort 
Bennett  on  the  Missouri.  He  had  white 
man's  log -cabins,  wagons,  furniture,  horses, 
hens,  and  chickens.  He  had,  moreover, 
hundreds  of  cartridges,  and  the  means  and 
appliances  wherewith  to  reload  his  shells, 
and  he  had,  what  was  worse,  a  lively  son, 
Black  Fox,  who  had  more  Winchesters  than 
he  knew  what  to  do  with,  and  an  insa- 
13  183 


TO    THE    FRONT 

tiable    longing    to    use    them    against    the 
whites. 

Ever  since  the  ghost-dancing  had  begun, 
Si  Tanka  stayed  in  the  open.  Agents  went 
forth  and  begged  him  to  come  in  where  he 
belonged — to  the  Cheyenne  Agency  at  the 
east,  or  to  the  Pine  Ridge  to  the  southwest, 
or  the  Rosebud  to  the  southeast,  or,  if  his 
lordship  preferred,  he  might  even  go  camp 
near  Fort  Meade,  or  surrender  at  Standing 
Rock  Agency  to  the  northeast,  but  to  be 
out  in  the  wilds  and  barely  one  hundred  miles 
from  Sitting  Bull,  also  posing  as  a  private 
and  sovereign  citizen,  accepting  government 
support  but  declining  government  supervi 
sion — that  was  something  the  Indian  Bureau 
viewed  with  alarm,  and  well  it  might,  for  if 
Tatanka  lyotanka  (Bull  Sitting  Big)  and 
Siha  Tanka,  Si  for  short  (Foot  Big),  should 
take  it  into  their  dusky  heads  to  be  allies 
and  not  rivals,  if  the  great  Uncapapa  and 
the  big  Minniconjou  were  to  join  forces, 
there  would  be  the  mischief  to  pay  all 
over  the  West.  So  the  Bureau  sent  and 
civilly  requested.  Si  Tanka  most  uncivilly 
184 


TO    THE    FRONT 

replied,  and  Tatanka  lyotanka  scorned  to 
reply  at  all. 

What  made  matters  bad  was  this,  that 
young  braves  were  eternally  getting  crazy 
over  the  ghost-dancing  and  going  off  to  join 
these  big  chiefs.  " Akichita  hemacha"  ("I 
am  a  warrior"),  being  all  they  had  to  say  to 
friends  and  teachers  who  sought  to  dissuade 
them. 

Away  up  at  Fort  Meade,  in  the  Black  Hills, 
were  some  high -mettled  fellows,  cavalry 
and  infantry,  who  were  eagerly  watching 
the  indications,  one  burly  major  of  Horse 
fairly  losing  his  temper  over  the  situation, 
and  begging  the  powers  to  let  him  take  his 
capital  squadron,  with  one  or  two  companies 
of  infantry,  and,  between  his  horsemen,  his 
"walkaheaps,"  and  himself,  sturdy  "Napa 
Yahmni,"  as  the  Sioux  had  named  him,  swore 
he'd  bring  Big  Foot  to  his  senses  and  back 
to  the  agency.  Napa  yahmni  meant  "  three 
fingers,"  that  being  all  that  were  left  on  one 
of  his  hands  after  a  scrimmage  with  Southern 
sabres  during  the  great  Civil  War.  Really, 
there  was  reason  why  something  should  be 

185 


TO    THE    FRONT 

done,  or  surely  the  settlers  and  ranch  folk 
would  be  made  to  suffer.     And  with  troops 
there  at  Fort  Meade,  in  the  Hills,  and  over  at 
Fort  Yates,  on  the   Missouri,  and  at  Fort 
Robinson  off  to  the  southwest,  or  Niobrara 
here  to  the  east,  it  was  high  time  Mr.  Big 
Foot  was  made  to  behave,  and  still  the  gov 
ernment  stayed  its  orders  and  held  its  hand. 
One  cool-headed,  nervy,  mild-mannered 
young  officer  had  taken  his  life  in  his  hands, 
and   a   half-breed   interpreter   in    civilized 
clothing,  visited  Si  Tanka's  big  village  and 
had  a  talk  with  his  turbulent  braves,  to  the 
end  that  as  many  as  forty  decided  to  quit, 
go  home  and  be  good,  give  up  evil  spirits, 
intentions,  and  ghost-dancing,  to  the  rage  of 
Black  Fox  and  the  amaze  of  Napa  Yahmni, 
but  it  wasn't  a  week  before  another  Messiah 
broke  loose  among  the  sand-hills  of  western 
Nebraska,   and  braves  by  the   dozen   sped 
thither   to   hear   him;   and    presently  both 
agencies  had  another  influx  of  outsiders,  urg 
ing  revolt  and  uprising,   and  the  old  men 
counselled  vainly,  and  preachers  and  teachers 
pleaded  without  avail.     The  young  wards  of 
186 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  nation  were  ripe  for  mischief.  The  day 
of  their  deliverance  had  come.  The  Messiah 
was  calling  his  chosen  to  the  wild  wastes  of 
the  Bad  Lands,  where  they  could  sing  and 
shout  and  dance  till  they  dropped,  and  then 
if  they  went  mad  with  religion,  and  away 
to  the  warpath,  it  meant  woe  for  western 
Nebraska  and  for  the  Dakotas  far  and  near. 
This  was  the  situation  that  called  for  a  scout 
from  Fort  Niobrara,  and  thus  it  happened 
that  for  over  a  fortnight  a  little  column  of 
cavalry  had  been  patrolling  the  breaks  and 
the  valleys  away  to  the  northwest,  peering 
into  the  old  haunts  of  the  Sioux  along  the 
headwaters  of  the  pretty  streams  rising 
among  the  hills  beyond  the  weather-beaten 
landmark  of  Eagle's  Nest.  They  found  lodge 
poles  a-plenty  on  Black  Pipe  Creek,  and  the 
ashes  of  many  a  little  fire  along  Pass  Creek 
and  Bear  -  in  -  the  -  Lodge,  and  away  to  the 
Yellow  Medicine.  They  circled  clear  round 
the  wild  worshippers,  it  seems,  far  west  as  the 
Wounded  Knee,  without  ever  encountering 
one;  and  yet  keeping  them  on  the  move 
had  broken  up  their  incantations,  and,  as  the 
187 


TO    THE    FRONT 

major  believed,  had  worn  out  their  obstinate 
determination  to  stick  to  their  medicine 
men  and  Messiahs  whether  the  Great  White 
Father  would  have  it  or  not. 

For  two  days  the  column  had  followed, 
eastward  now,  the  trail  of  a  big  band,  and 
just  when  Baptiste  and  Touch-the-Sky,  in 
terpreters,  would  have  it  that  the  crazy 
chiefs  and  their  followers  had  been  fairly 
headed  off  and  balked  of  their  purpose  of 
joining  Big  Foot  beyond  the  Cheyenne,  just 
when  it  seemed  likely  that  another  day  would 
enable  the  troops  to  overhaul  them  and 
herd  them  peaceably,  if  possible,  forcibly,  if 
not,  back  to  the  sheltering  wing  of  the  agency 
and  the  Indian  police,  lo,  just  at  sunset,  after 
a  long  day's  march,  a  corporal  had  come 
galloping,  full  cry,  from  the  rear -guard, 
while  the  scouts  were  still  far  out  to  the 
front:  "The  Indians  are  back  of  us  at  least 
six  miles,  going  like  mad  for  the  north!" 

Then  the  major  commanding  said  things 

that  made  his  pilots'  ears  tingle.     It  was  all 

gospel  truth.     Finding  themselves  followed 

and  being  steadily  pressed  onward  toward 

188 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  fort  and  the  settlements,  the  astute 
warriors  had  left  a  goodly  sized  party  ambling 
along  in  front,  to  lead  the  cavalry  on;  had 
dropped  away  all  afternoon  by  twos  and 
threes  as  though  looking  for  antelope  or 
black  tail,  not  northward  where  the  valley 
of  the  upper  Chaduza  was  open  and  shallow 
and  they  could  be  seen  for  miles,  but  south 
ward  among  the  breaks  and  ravines  where 
they  were  hidden  entirely;  had  reassembled 
on  a  little  branch  to  the  southwest  and  then, 
when  the  column  was  well  out  of  sight,  had 
rushed  for  the  north  and  the  wild  country  so 
recently  left ;  had  forded  the  Chaduza  and  by 
moonrise  were  doubtless  safely  camped  for 
the  night  on  the  south  fork  of  White  River. 
All  the  major  could  do  was  order  his  men 
to  the  right-about,  march  to  the  crossing 
(another  weary  six  miles  after  the  thirty- 
six  of  the  day),  and,  with  drooping  horses 
and  riders,  unsaddle,  cook  supper,  and  settle 
for  the  night,  then  send  couriers  to  the  post 
in  the  morning. 

And  now  morning  had  come  and  couriers 
had  not  yet  gone,  for  an  hour  before  the  first 
189 


TO    THE    FRONT 

break  of  day — the  anpaniya  of  the  Sioux — 
there  had  come  galloping  from  the  northeast 
a  riderless  horse,  at  sight  of  whose  blood 
stained  saddle  and  stirrup  hood  the  herd- 
guard  woke  the  officer  of  the  pickets.  The 
captain  unrolled  from  his  blanket,  took  one 
look  by  the  light  of  the  moon,  and  bade  the 
corporal  find  Baptiste,  who  needed  not  to 
see  the  saddle ;  he  knew  the  horse  at  a  glance. 

"Pete  Gamble's,"  said  he.  "They've  be 
gun  killing!"  And  Pete  Gamble  was  a  ranch 
man  well  known  to  them  all,  both  Indian 
and  white.  "If  they  would  kill  him"  said 
he,  "they  would  kill  anybody." 

And  as  if  this  were  not  enough,  barely 
half  an  hour  later  two  men,  mad  with  terror, 
came  spurring  in  over  the  northward  ridge, 
almost  delirious  with  joy  to  find  themselves 
in  the  presence  of  friends.  Their  little  hunt 
ing  camp,  they  said,  had  been  suddenly 
"jumped"  early  in  the  night.  They  had 
managed  to  get  out  with  stampeded  horses, 
but  every  one  else  was  butchered,  and  the 
Indians  were  after  them.  The  major  doubled 
his  guards  to  the  north  and  awaited  the 
190 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Indian  coming.  He  would  not  rouse  his 
wearied  men  until  actually  assailed. 

But  now  it  was  fairly  broad  daylight,  and 
not  an  Indian  feather  had  shown  nor  an 
Indian  shot  been  heard.  Slowly,  sleepily, 
at  the  gruff  summons  of  their  sergeants,  the 
troopers  were  crawling  out  of  their  blankets 
and  stretching  and  yawning  by  the  fires. 
No  stirring  trumpet-call  had  roused  them 
from  their  dreams.  A  stickler  for  style  and 
ceremony  was  the  major  in  garrison,  but  out 
on  Indian  campaign  he  was  "horse  sense 
from  the  ground  up,"  as  his  veterans  put  it. 
He  observed  all  formalities  when  on  or 
dinary  march,  and  none  whatever  when  in 
chase  of  the  Indians. 

He  had  let  them  sleep  to  the  very  last 
minute,  well  knowing  he  might  have  stern 
demands  to  make  that  day.  He  and  his 
adjutant  had  reduced  the  statements  of  the 
hunters  to  writing,  and  a  brief,  soldierly  re 
port  was  now  ready  to  go  to  the  general  com 
manding  the  department,  who  had  come  out 
to  Fort  Niobrara  to  be  nearer  the  scene  of 
action.  The  fort  lay  nearly  fifty  miles  away, 
191 


TO    THE    FRONT 

south  of  east,  the  agency  even  farther  to 
the  north  and  east,  and  the  recalcitrant 
braves  were  heading  away  through  the  wilds 
of  their  old  reservation,  and  might  stop  only 
for  occasional  bite,  sup,  or  sleep  until  they 
joined  forces  with  Big  Foot  or  Black  Fox, 
full  a  hundred  miles  as  the  crow  flies,  for 
now  were  they  branded  renegades  in  the 
light  of  the  law. 

In  the  crisp,  chill  air  of  the  late  autumn 
morning  tiny  smokes  from  the  cook -fires 
sailed  straight  aloft,  melting  speedily  into 
the  blue.  For  nearly  half  a  mile  along  the 
stream  horses  and  pack-mules  were  scattered 
upon  the  "bench,"  browsing  eagerly  oh  the 
dew -laden  bunch  grass.  Farther  out  be 
yond  them  on  every  side,  with  their  cam 
paign  hats  pulled  down  over  their  grim 
eyebrows  and  their  heads  deep  in  the 
collars  of  their  cavalry  overcoats,  the  men 
of  the  guard  still  kept  vigilant  watch.  Long 
years  of  experience  on  the  Indian  frontier 
had  taught  their  leaders  the  need  of  pre 
caution,  and  the  sentries  took  their  cue  from 
the  "old  hands."  By  a  little  camp-fire, 
192 


TO    THE    FRONT 

booted,  spurred,  slouch-hatted,  like  his  troop 
ers,  and  muffled  in  a  light -blue  overcoat 
that  could  not  be  told  from  theirs,  the  major 
commanding  was  giving  brief  directions  to 
three  troopers  who  stood  silently  before  him, 
their  carbines  dangling  from  their  broad 
shoulder-belts,  with  the  reins  of  their  chargers 
in  hand.  Wiry  and  gaunt  were  these  charg 
ers,  wiry  and  gaunt  were  the  men,  for  those 
were  days  when  neither  horse  nor  rider  went 
over- weight  on  campaign,  or  came  back  with 
a  superfluous  ounce.  But  horses  and  men 
had  stripped  for  the  day's  work.  Blanket, 
poncho,  and  overcoat,  saddle-bags,  side  lines, 
lariat,  and  picket-pin — everything,  in  fact, 
but  themselves,  their  arms,  cartridges,  can 
teens,  saddles,  saddle-blankets,  and  bridles — 
had  been  left  to  the  pack-train.  A  good 
breakfast  to  start  with,  a  few  hardtack  and 
slices  of  bacon  in  the  breast-pocket  of  the 
hunting-shirt,  settled  the  question  of  subsist 
ence.  They  were  to  start  at  once,  deliver 
those  despatches  at  Niobrara,  unless  headed 
off  by  Indians,  long  before  set  of  sun,  and  be 
back  with  reply  before  its  rise  on  the  morrow. 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Then  came  the  question  as  to  the  fate  of 
the  poor  fellows  of  Gamble's  and  the  hun 
ters'  camp. 

"Mr.  Willard,"  said  the  major  to  his 
adjutant,  as  the  couriers  mounted  and  rode 
away,  "send  one  platoon  over  to  Gamble's 
camp — it  '11  take  'em  all  day — and  another 
back  on  the  trail  of  the  teamsters,  and  see 
what  they  can  find  of  the  outfit.  They'll 
have  to  hunt  for  it  themselves.  The  hunters 
say  they  wouldn't  go  back  for  a  million 
apiece." 

The  adjutant  was  figuring  in  his  note-book. 
He  closed  it,  arose  at  once,  and  looked  about 
him.  Officers  and  men,  the  six  troops,  or 
companies,  of  the  detachment  seemed  busy 
at  breakfast.  The  aroma  of  soldier  coffee 
floated  on  the  keen  morning  air,  and  under 
the  gentle,  genial  influence  of  the  welcome 
stimulant  men  began  to  thaw  out,  and 
presently  the  firesides  were  merry  with  chaff 
and  fun.  A  curious  and  sympathetic  group, 
to  be  sure,  hovered  about  the  survivors  of 
the  hunters'  camp,  listening  rather  doubt 
fully  to  their  tales,  for  the  tales  had  taken 
194 


TO    THE    FRONT 

devious  turns  under  cross-examination.  But 
for  the  bloody  trappings  of  Pete  Gamble's 
horse,  telling  mutely  of  tragedy,  the  hunters 
might  have  met  only  contempt  and  scoffing. 
Indian  scares  were  old  as  the  trails. 

"Whose  turn  is  it?"  presently  questioned 
the  major,  as  Mr.  Willard  started  away. 
The  adjutant  halted  and  faced  about: 

"'D'  and  'F'  troops,  sir." 

"All  right.  One  officer  and  twenty  men 
from  each  will  be  enough." 

And  then  came  striding  forward,  with 
quick,  elastic  steps,  a  young  soldier  in  dark- 
blue  campaign  shirt  and  riding-breeches,  a 
three  weeks'  stubble  on  his  clear-cut,  sun 
burned  face,  a  field -glass  slung  over  one 
shoulder,  a  leather-covered  note-book  tucked 
away  inside  his  cartridge-belt.  No  sign  of 
rank  was  visible  about  his  dress,  yet  there 
could  be  little  doubt  of  it.  The  major  looked 
up,  smiling. 

"Fast  going  for  topographical  notes  yes 
terday,  wasn't  it,  Mr.  Connell?" 

"  I'm  afraid  so,  sir.  Indeed,  I'm  ashamed 
to  submit  them,  but  I  wouldn't  have  missed 


TO    THE    FRONT 

this    scout    for    a   month's    pay,    all    the 


same." 


"Well,  we  don't  often  see  the  engineers 
on  this  sort  of  duty.  I'm  glad  the  general 
sent  you  along.  What  is  it,  captain?"  he 
broke  off,  turning  to  a  gray  -  mustached, 
choleric-looking  veteran  who  came  suddenly 
upon  them,  breathing  rather  hard. 

"  Major,"  began  the  stout  man,  impetuous 
ly,  uthis  makes  the  third  time  in  ten  days 
1  F '  Troop's  been  ordered  on  side  scout,  or 
some  part  of  it.  Now  we're  ordered  back  to 
hunt  up  what's  left  of  that  wagon  camp, 
and—" 

"One  moment,  captain,"  interposed  the 
commander,  placidly.  "You  say  'we.'  My 
orders  are  only  one  officer  and  twenty  men." 

"Well,  I  have  only  one  officer  with  me, 
and  he  don't  belong,"  was  the  querulous  re 
joinder.  "  He's  simply  a  volunteer  with  the 
command,  and  so  utterly  inexperienced  that 
I  consider  it  necessary  to  go  myself.  I  can't 
trust  my  men  to  a  mere  boy  just  out  of 
school." 

"That  will  do,  Captain  Garrett,"  said  the 
196 


TO    THE    FRONT 

major,  promptly,  yet  with  absolutely  un 
ruffled  tone  and  temper.  "If  /  can,  you 
may.  Mr.  Graham  has  had  more  experience 
than  you  are  aware  of." 

"Does  Mr.  Graham  go — in  command?" 
asked  Connell,  eagerly,  as  Captain  Garrett, 
silenced,  but  swelling  with  amaze,  stood 
helplessly  by.  "May  7  go  with  him,  sir?" 

"By  all  means,  Mr.  Connell,  if  you  wish." 


XV 

FIRST    SIGHT    OF    THE    FOE 

IN  half  an  hour  the  sun  was  up  and  two 
little  detachments  of  cavalry  were  up  and 
away  —  one  of  them,  under  Lieutenant 
O'Fallon,  filing  out  of  the  cotton-woods,  at 
the  eastward  verge,  and  heading  straight 
on  the  trail  of  the  couriers,  who  were  already 
out  of  sight  down  the  valley;  the  other, 
leaving  a  few  minutes  later,  was  just  dis 
appearing  from  view  of  the  watchers  in  the 
bivouac,  over  the  low  ridge  or  divide  that 
spanned  the  northward  sky-line.  Once  be 
fore,  five  years  back,  Geordie  Graham  had 
led  a  little  cavalry  command  on  a  swift 
and  successful  chase  after  a  gang  of  frontier 
desperadoes  who  had  robbed  the  bank  at 
Argenta.  Now,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
he  was  both  guide  and  commander.  Now, 
as  they  had  done  time  and  again  in  cadet 
198 


TO    THE    FRONT 

days,  Connell  and  Graham,  "  Badger"  and 
"  Coyote,"  went  side  by  side,  almost  hand  in 
hand,  on  the  path  of  stirring  and  at  last 
perilous  duty. 

To  Connell  the  scout  had  thus  far  been  one 
of  almost  unalloyed  enjoyment  and  profit. 
Attached  to  the  staff  of  the  commander  as 
engineer  and  topographical  officer,  he  had 
ridden  at  will  on  the  flanks  of  the  column,  a 
single  orderly  his  sole  attendant,  a  prismatic 
compass  his  only  instrument.  Then  with 
the  declining  hours  of  the  day  came  the 
making  up  of  his  notes,  and  after  supper  the 
hours  of  confab  with  Geordie,  who,  when 
ever  possible,  would  come  over  to  headquar 
ters  camp-fire.  There  was  no  sociability  at 
his  own. 

"It  is  too  bad,"  Major  Berry  had  con 
fided  to  Connell  the  third  day  out.  "It 
just  so  happened  that  'Old  Grumbly'  was 
the  one  captain  without  a  subaltern  when 
Mr.  Graham  reported  for  duty  with  us,  and 
your  fine  young  classmate  had  to  take  the 
place  of  one  of  the  absentees.  The  colonel 
couldn't  help  himself.  Grumbly  is  a  good 

14  199 


TO    THE    FRONT 

soldier  in  his  way,  Mr.  Connell,  and  knows 
his  trade,  too.  I  suppose  Graham  has— 
sized  him  up?"  This  with  a  cock  of  his 
head  and  a  keen  glance. 

"Shouldn't  wonder,  sir;  but  if  he  has,  he's 
kept  it  to  himself." 

"Well,  if  Garrett  gets  to  bothering  Gra 
ham  too  much,  you  let  me  know." 

"  I  will,  sir,  if  Graham  lets  me  know,  but — 
I'm  mistaken  in  Graham  if  he  opens  his  head 
on  the  subject." 

And  though  the  scout  was  now  in  its  third 
week,  and  things  had  been  said  and  done  by 
"Grumbly"  Garrett  that  set  other  men  to 
talking,  not  a  word  had  come  from  "  Coyote." 

But  it  soon  transpired  that  if  Graham 
wouldn't  speak  of  his  troop  commander  pro 
tern. ,  neither  did  he  speak  to  him,  save  when 
occasion  required.  Day  after  day  on  the 
march  it  was  noted  that  while  the  senior 
lieutenant  of  each  troop  rode  side  by  side 
with  his  captain,  the  young  West  Pointer 
serving  with  "  F  "  was  almost  always  at  the 
rear  of  its  column  of  twos,  where,  as  it  trans 
pired,  Garrett  had  given  him  orders  to  march 
200 


TO    THE    FRONT 

and  see  that  the  men  kept  closed.     But  no 
complaint  came  from  Graham. 

Now,  however,  as  the  two  old  chums  rode 
away  on  a  side  scout  of  their  own,  it  might 
well  be  expected  that  " Coyote"  would  be 
less  reticent.  The  eyes  of  half  the  command 
had  followed  them  appreciatively  as  the  de 
tachment  started,  Graham  and  Connell  in 
the  lead,  Sergeant  Drum  and  his  nineteen 
following  in  compact  column  of  twos.  No 
sooner  did  they  reach  the  outlying  sentries, 
however,  than  it  was  noted  that  the  young 
leader  looked  back  over  his  shoulder,  and  the 
next  moment  two  troopers  detached  them 
selves  from  the  rest  and  spurred  out  ahead 
until  full  six  hundred  yards  in  the  lead. 
Then  two  others  obliqued  out  to  the  right 
and  left  until  nearly  as  a  great  a  distance  on 
the  flanks. 

"Knows  his  biz,"  said  the  adjutant,  sen- 
tentiously. 

"  Knows  nothing  but  what  I've  taught  him 
day  by  day,"  snarled  Captain  Garrett.    "  And 
I  wash  my  hands  of  all  responsibility  for  that 
detachment  once  it's  out  of  sight  of  us." 
201 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"Shut  up,"  growled  a  junior.  "The  '  Old 
Man's '  got  ears,  and  he'll  hear  you." 

"Well,  I  want  him  to  hear — it's  time  he 
did  hear — and  heed,"  was  the  surly  answer. 
But  "Grumbly's"  eyes  were  wisely  watching 
the  major  as  he  spoke,  noting  that  the  "Old 
Man"  was  busy  with  his  binocular,  following 
Graham's  movements  up  the  long,  gradual, 
northward  slope.  The  moment  the  major 
dropped  it  and  turned  toward  the  group. 
Captain  Garrett  changed  his  tone.  "What 
I'm  most  afraid  of  is  his  getting  lost,"  said  he. 

"You  needn't  be,  captain,"  said  the 
bearded  commander,  placidly.  "Mr.  Gra 
ham  knows  this  country  better  than  we  do. 
He  spent  long  months  here  before  ever  we 
set  eyes  on  it." 

Garrett's  jaw  dropped.  "  Then  why  didn't 
he  tell  me  ?  How  was  I  to  know  ?" 

"Principally,  I  fancy,"  drawled  the  ad 
jutant,  who  loved  to  rub  "Old  Grumbly's" 
fur  the  wrong  way,  "because  you  told  him 
two  weeks  ago  that  when  you  wanted  advice 
or  information  on  any  subject  from  him 
you'd  ask  it." 

202 


TO    THE    FRONT 

But  while  Graham  had  as  yet  won  no 
friend  in  Captain  Garrett,  he  had  found 
many  among  the  troopers.  His  fine  horse 
manship,  his  kind,  courteous  manner  to 
them,  his  soldierly  bearing  toward  their 
irascible  captain,  had  appealed  to  them  at  the 
start  and  held  them  more  and  more  toward 
the  finish.  They  saw  the  second  day  out 
that  he  was  no  novice  at  plainscraft.  The 
captain  had  asked  his  estimate  of  the  dis 
tance  from  a  ford  of  the  Chaduza  to  a  dis 
tant  butte,  and  promptly  scoffed  at  his 
answer;  indeed,  it  surprised  most  of  them. 
Yet  "Plum"  Gunnison,  pack -master,  who 
had  served  seven  years  at  the  post,  said  the 
lieutenant  was  right.  They  saw  within  the 
fourth  day  that  the  new-comer  was  an  old 
stager  in  more  ways  than  one.  "Touch- 
the-Sky,"  scout  and  interpreter,  said  the 
lieutenant  knew  sign  talk,  which  was  more 
than  their  captain  did.  They  were  to  see 
still  more  within  the  compass  of  a  day's 
march,  but  they  had  seen  enough  in  their  two 
weeks'  comradeship  to  give  them  confidence 
in  the  young  officer  they  never  felt  for  their 
203 


TO    THE    FRONT 

own  and  only  "Grumbly,"  who,  with  all  his 
experience,  would  often  blunder,  and  Grum 
bly  's  blunders  told  on  his  troop,  otherwise 
they  might  not  have  cared. 

In  low  tone  the  troopers  were  chatting  as 
they  crossed  the  divide  and  once  more  came 
in  view  of  the  two  far  out  in  advance,  riding 
now  northeastward.  They  were  following 
back,  without  much  difficulty,  the  hoof- 
prints  of  the  two  fugitives  who,  riding  in 
terror  and  darkness,  had  so  fortunately 
found  their  bivouac  at  break  of  day.  And 
it  was  of  these  two  both  the  men  and  their 
young  officers  were  talking  as  the  little  party 
jogged  steadily  on. 

Peaceful  hunters  and  law-abiding  men  the 
pair  had  represented  themselves.  They  were 
originally  five  in  all  —  three  "pardners,"  a 
wagoner,  and  a  cook.  Their  "outfit"  con 
sisted  of  a  covered  wagon  with  four  draught 
and  three  saddle  horses.  They  indignantly 
spurned  the  suggestion  that  they  had  whiskey 
to  swap  with  the  Indians  for  fur  and  peltries. 
They  had  a  ranch  down  on  Snake  River, 
were  well  known  in  Valentine,  had  never 
204 


TO    THE    FRONT 

made  trouble,  nor  had  trouble,  with  the 
Indians;  but  the  game  was  all  gone  from 
their  home  neighborhood,  and  so  long  as 
they  kept  off  the  reservation  they  knew 
there  was  no  reason  for  the  Indians  troubling 
them.  And  here  came  another  suggestion. 
The  "Old  Man,"  Major  Berry,  had  somewhat 
bluntly  asked  if  they  did  not  know  they  had 
been  trespassing,  had  been  well  within  the 
reservation  lines  and  north  of  Nebraska, 
and  the  two  swore  stoutly  that  Lem  Pearson, 
partner  and  projector  of  the  enterprise,  had 
said  he  knew  the  country  perfectly,  had  been 
there  half  a  dozen  times,  and  they  left  it  all 
to  him.  They  never  dreamed  they  were 
doing  wrong  until  their  camp  was  "  jumped" 
in  the  dead  of  night,  and  the  Sioux  chased 
them  every  inch  of  the  way  till  they  got  in 
sight  of  the  cavalry. 

Yet  here  was  the  detachment,  at  six  o'clock 
of  this  sparkling  morning,  clear  out  of  sight 
of  the  rest  of  the  cavalry,  and  half-way  across 
the  long  swale  of  the  next  divide,  and, 
though  the  print  of  the  shod  horses  was  easily 
followed,  not  once  yet,  anywhere — although 
205 


TO    THE    FRONT 

the  little  troop  was  spread  out  in  long  ex 
tended  line  and  searched  diligently — not  once 
had  they  found  the  print  of  a  pony  hoof.  Now 
they  were  full  an  hour,  and  nearly  four  miles, 
out  from  camp,  and  Geordie  signalled,  slowly 
swinging  his  campaign  hat  about  his  head, 
for  his  men  to  assemble,  then  dismount  and 
take  their  ten  minutes'  rest. 

"Con,"  said  he,  presently,  "it's  my  belief 
those  scamps  were  lying.  The  only  Indians 
near  the  Chaduza  were  those  that  skipped 
for  White  River  last  night  and  are  probably 
heading  for  Eagle's  Nest  now.  Their  trail 
must  be  three  miles  or  more  west  of  us  here, 
and  South  Fork  isn't  three  miles  ahead. 
We'll  see  it  from  yonder  ridge." 

Connell  was  squatting,  tailor  fashion,  on 
the  turf,  and  thoughtfully  playing  "  mumble- 
t'-peg"  with  his  hunting-knife,  while  his  troop 
horse  cropped  thriftily  at  the  bunch  grass. 
Graham  had  been  giving  a  glance  over  his 
little  command,  watching  the  resetting  of  a 
saddle  or  a  careful  folding  of  a  blanket.  It 
would  presently  be  time  to  mount  and  start, 
but  there  was  something  on  his  mind,  and, 
206 


TO    THE    FRONT 

as  of  old,  he  wanted  to  have  it  out  with  his 
chum. 

Connell  drew  his  knife  from  the  sod,  then, 
with  the  point  on  the  tip  of  the  left  fore 
finger  and  the  haft  deftly  held  between  the 
thumb  and  finger  of  his  right,  shifted  it  over 
by  his  right  ear  and  sent  it  whirling  down, 
saw  it  sink  two  inches  in  the  sand,  bolt  up 
right,  then  queried:  "They  said  their  camp 
was  on  the  Fork  ten  miles  away  northward. 
Could  that  be?" 

"  It  might.  The  Fork  turns  almost  square 
to  the  north  and  runs  back  of  Rosebud.  But 
what  I  mean  is,  they  weren't  chased  by  the 
Sioux.  I  doubt  if  they  fought  them  at  all." 

"How  about  Gamble's  horse?  —  and  the 
blood?  There's  been  some  kind  of  a  fight. 
Look,  Con!  There's  a  signal!" 

Surely  enough.  As  Connell  sprang  to  his 
feet  and  the  men  quickly  turned  to  their 
grazing  horses,  one  of  the  troopers,  far  in 
advance,  could  be  seen  close  to  the  crest  of 
the  divide.  He  had  dismounted  to  creep 
forward  and  peer  over,  and  now,  half-way 
back  to  where  he  had  left  his  horse,  was 
207 


TO    THE    FRONT 

waving  his  hat,  with  right  arm  extended  from 
directly  over  his  head  down  to  the  horizontal 
and  to  the  east. 

"Mount!"  said  Geordie,  quietly,  springing 
lightly  to  saddle  with  a  thrill  of  excitement 
in  his  young  heart.  "  Follow  at  a  walk,  ser 
geant,  off  to  the  northeast.  That's  where 
we're  needed,  Con." 

For  the  advance-guard,  mounting  quickly, 
was  now  loping  along  parallel  with  the  divide, 
yet  keeping  well  down  below  its  backbone, 
and,  putting  spurs  to  their  horses,  "  Badger  " 
and  "Coyote,"  the  chums  of  old,  darted 
swiftly  away  to  join  them. 

Five  minutes  more,  while  a  trooper  held 
the  horses  of  the  young  officers  and  their 
guides,  while  in  silence  and  with  eager  eyes 
the  little  detachment  came  jogging  over  the 
swale  to  the  support  of  the  leaders,  three 
forms  were  crouching  forward  to  the  top  of 
the  wavelike  ridge,  and  presently  three  heads, 
uncovered,  were  peering  over  into  the  valley 
beyond.  Then  the  arm  of  one  of  them  was 
outstretched,  pointing.  Then  the  field-glasses 
of  two  others  were  unslung,  fixed  and  focused 
208 


TO    THE    FRONT 

on  some  distant  object;  and  then  back,  still 
crouching,  came  one  of  the  number,  signalling 
to  Sergeant  Drum  to  come  on.  Whereupon, 
without  a  word  of  command,  simply  follow 
ing  the  example  of  their  foremost  man,  the 
riders  gave  the  bridle-hand,  and  with  the 
other  whipped  the  ready  carbines  from  their 
sockets,  and  with  the  butts  resting  on  the 
right  thigh,  the  brown  muzzles  advanced, 
came  on  at  a  swift  trot,  those  in  rear  un 
consciously  pressing  forward  on  those  in 
front. 

Then  another  signal — this  time  from  their 
young  commander,  who  had  come  run 
ning  down  afoot,  leaving  " Badger"  at  the 
crest.  In  the  eagerness  of  the  forward  rush 
the  riders  were  opening  out,  coming  right 
and  left  front  into  line,  as  the  soldiers  say, 
and  Graham's  gauntleted  hands — the  same 
gauntlets  Big  Ben  had  coveted  three  months 
earlier — were  extended  full  to  right  and  left, 
the  length  of  each  arm,  and  then  brought 
"palms  together"  in  front.  "Close  in," 
it  said,  as  plain  as  day,  and  almost  instantly 
Drum's  gruff  voice  could  be  heard  in  rebuke ; 
209 


TO    THE    FRONT 

almost  as  quickly  the  practised  riders  could 
be  seen  closing  the  outer  leg  and  rein.  An 
other  moment  and  the  little  line  was  trotting 
almost  boot  to  boot.  Then  as  they  neared 
the  point  where  the  slope  became  abrupt, 
Graham's  right  hand,  palm  forward,  went 
straight  aloft,  a  gesture  instantly  repeated 
by  the  sergeant,  and  in  two  seconds  more 
the  horses,  panting  a  little  with  excitement, 
were  pawing  the  turf,  and  Drum's  voice, 
low  and  compelling,  ordered,  "Count  fours!" 
The  next  moment  the  odd  numbers  darted 
forward  four  yards,  and  halted.  The  next, 
with  carbines  swung  over  their  shoulders, 
numbers  one,  two,  and  three  were  swinging 
from  saddle,  the  next  all  horses  were  again 
in  one  line,  with  every  fourth  trooper  still 
seated  in  saddle;  and  the  dismounted  men 
deftly  lashing  their  reins  to  the  headstalls 
of  numbers  two  and  three,  while  three  him 
self  passed  his  reins  up  to  number  four. 
Then,  nimbly,  with  carbines  at  trail,  up 
came  a  dozen  wiry  young  fellows  in  dusty 
campaign  rig,  running  swiftly  up  the  slope, 
and  in  another  moment  were  sprawling  on 

2IO 


TO    THE    FRONT 

their  stomachs  close  to  the  crest,  their  slouch 
hats  flung  aside. 

And  this  was  what  they  saw:  Before 
them,  to  the  right  front,  stretching  away  to 
the  north,  lay  a  broad  valley,  through  which 
meandered  a  wider,  bigger  stream  than  the 
familiar  Chaduza.  It  came  winding  down 
from  the  west  before  making  its  sweeping 
bend  to  the  northward.  It  was  fringed  in 
spots  by  cotton-woods,  and  bare  to  the  very 
banks  in  others.  It  was  desolate  and  life 
less  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  west  and  north. 
But  away  to  the  northeast,  perhaps  seven 
miles  or  so,  a  faint  column  of  smoke  was 
rising  against  the  skies.  Away  to  the 
northwest,  perhaps  a  dozen  miles,  in  alter 
nate  puffs,  another  and  narrower  smoke 
column  was  rising — Sioux  signals,  as  they 
knew  at  once — and  right  down  here  before 
their  eyes,  midway  between  the  shining  river 
and  the  foot  of  the  northward  slope,  per 
haps  two  thousand  yards  out — a  little  more 
than  a  mile  —  was  coming  toward  them  a 
four-horse  wagon,  its  white  top  a  wreck,  its 
struggling  team  lashed  by  the  whip  of  the 

211 


TO    THE    FRONT 

driver  and  the  quirts  of  half  a  dozen  dusky 
outriders,  while  others  still  circled  and  shout 
ed  and  urged  them  on,  while  afar  back  on 
the  east  bank  of  the  stream  other  riders 
could  be  seen  darting  about  in  keen  excite 
ment.  All  on  a  sudden,  but  by  no  means  all 
unprepared,  " Corporal  Pops"  and  his  little 
command  found  themselves  facing  a  new 
proposition  and  a  band  of  turbulent  Sioux. 


XVI 

PROOF    POSITIVE    OF    GUILT 

AsFD  the  first  words  spoken  came  from 
the  lips  of  Sergeant  Drum  —  like  many 
another  old  campaigner  among  the  old-time 
regulars,  a  privileged  character. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  ye  those  fellers  were  lyin'  ? 
Here's  their  wagon  now,  that  was  burnt  over 
their  heads!" 

At  intervals  of  several  paces,  as  they  could 
best  find  points  from  which  to  see  without 
being  seen  from  the  northern  side,  the  little 
detachment  lay  sprawled  along  the  crest,  the 
brown  barrels  of  the  carbines  well  forward. 
Graham  and  Connell,  peering  through  their 
field  -  glasses,  their  elbows  resting  on  the 
turf,  were  side  by  side  about  the  centre. 
Behind  them,  nearly  a  hundred  paces  down 
the  southward  slope,  stood  the  horses  in  an 
irregular  line,  a  corporal  remaining  in  charge, 
213 


TO    THE    FRONT 

keenly  watching  the  movements  of  his  supe 
riors,  yet  keeping  constant  control  of  the  four 
horse-holders,  who,  like  himself,  remained  in 
saddle.  There  could  be  no  telling  what 
moment  they  might  be  needed. 

For  an  odd  and  perplexing  situation  was 
this  in  which  the  young  commander  was 
placed.  Ordered  to  follow  back  the  trail 
of  the  fugitive  hunters  to  the  point  where 
they  claimed  to  have  been  "jumped"  by 
hostile  Indians;  ordered  to  find,  if  possible, 
the  remains  of  the  victims,  men  and  horses, 
and  of  the  burned  wagon  and  "outfit";  or 
dered  also  to  search  for  signs  by  which  the 
assailants  might  be  discovered,  the  command 
had  come  suddenly  in  sight  of  a  wagon  and 
horses  that  answered  the  description  of  those 
said  to  have  been  destroyed,  and  if  that 
wasn't  a  white  man  driving  them,  both  bi 
noculars  were  at  fault. 

But  what  did  it  mean  that  the  captors 
should  be  coming  southwestward  with  their 
booty?  Why  had  they  not  burned  the 
wagon?  They  could  never  use  it  at  the 
reservation.  Many  young  men,  of  course, 
214 


TO    THE    FRONT 

were  out  and  afield  with  the  ghost-dancers, 
but  the  elders,  the  native  police,  and  the 
agent  would  quickly  hear  of  it,  and  trouble 
would  follow  for  somebody.  George  Sword, 
Sioux  chief  of  police  and  stanch  adherent 
of  General  Crook — "Wichahnpi  Yahmni  " 
(Three  Stars),  as  they  called  him  whom  so 
long  the  Sioux  had  honored,  and  whom  now 
they  were  so  deeply  mourning  —  George 
Sword  was  a  man  who  did  his  duty  well; 
Geordie,  as  a  boy,  had  known  him,  and  known 
how  the  general  trusted  him.  A  wagon  like 
this  would  be  of  no  more  use  to  the  captors 
than  a  locomotive;  yet  here  they  were,  a 
dozen  of  them,  urging  it  on,  while  others  of 
their  kind,  afar  back  down -stream,  were 
darting  about,  little  black  dots  of  horsemen 
scampering  over  the  distant  slopes,  evidently 
watching  some  parties  still  farther  away  and 
invisible  to  the  lurking  cavalry. 

Could  it  be  that  they  were  trying  to  repeat 
an  old-time  deed  of  chivalry  told  to  this 
day  of  their  fathers — restoring  lost  property 
to  the  legitimate  owners  ?  Could  it  be  that, 
knowing  the  presence  of  the  squadron  on  the 
xs  215 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Mini  Chaduza,  and  the  probability  of  the 
frightened  owners  having  found  refuge  there, 
these  Indians  were  now  actually  driving 
thither?  They  were  still  on  their  reserva 
tion.  There  was  nothing  but  the  fugitives' 
statement  to  warrant  the  belief  that  the 
camp  had  been  attacked  and  burned.  There 
was  nothing,  in  fact,  to  justify  an  attack 
upon  the  present  possessors.  They  would 
probably  scatter,  rush  to  the  reservation, 
tell  their  tale  to  the  agent,  and  the  press 
and  the  peace  societies  would  presently  be 
flooding  the  country  with  columns  concern 
ing  the  murderous  onslaught  on  a  friendly 
people  made  by  a  reckless  soldiery. 

Yet  something  had  to  be  done,  and  that 
right  speedily;  for  now,  instead  of  breasting 
the  long  slope,  and  coming,  as  at  first,  straight 
toward  the  ridge,  the  Indians  were  lashing 
the  leaders  in  gradual  turn  to  the  westward. 
Now  they  were  skirting  the  foot  of  the  in 
cline  and  moving  parallel  to  the  ridge,  and 
then  it  was  that  Geordie  saw  the  reason. 
They  had  made  the  wide  sweep  outward  in 
order  to  circle  the  head  of  a  ravine  which, 
216 


TO    THE    FRONT 

starting  only  a  few  hundred  yards  out  to  the 
left  front,  went  winding  deeper  and  steeper 
through  the  " bench"  until  it  finally  opened 
out  into  the  creek  bottom  a  long  mile  away. 

Yes,  the  whole  scheme  was  evident  now. 
They  had  captured  the  camp  and  the  wagon 
with  its  contents,  and,  knowing  the  difficult 
country  and  crossings  along  the  lower  Fork, 
were  scurrying  with  their  booty  around  the 
great  southward  bend,  hoping  to  get  away 
to  the  west,  reach  the  trail  of  the  war-party 
that  had  evaded  the  cavalry,  and  follow  on 
with  their  prize.  Or  else,  still  keeping  within 
the  reservation  line,  to  drive  on  westward  for 
the  valley  of  the  Wounded  Knee  and  their 
red  brethren  of  the  Pine  Ridge  Agency,  the 
Brul6s  of  old  Spotted  Tail's  (Sinte  gleshka's) 
long  famous  band. 

Yet  there,  too,  this  wagon  would  be  a 
white  elephant.  Why  had  they  not  divided 
among  themselves  the  simple  contents  of 
a  hunter's  camp  outfit,  cut  loose  with  the 
horses,  and  burned  the  big  vehicle,  which 
they  could  not  use? 

Then  all  in  a  moment  the  truth  flashed 
217 


TO    THE    FRONT 

upon  Geordie.  Years  before  he  had  heard 
of  such  traffic,  heard  the  fierce  denunciation 
lavished  by  officers  and  men  upon  the  mis 
creants  who,  for  love  of  gold,  would  sell  to 
Indians,  at  fabulous  price,  the  means  of 
murdering  their  fellow-men.  All  on  a  sud 
den  his  voice  was  heard  i 

"Back  to  your  horses,  men!  Mount,  ser 
geant,  and  follow.  Come  on,  Connell!  That's 
why  it  takes  four  horses  to  lug  it — that 
wagon  is  loaded  with  lead!" 

One  minute  more  and  from  the  lips  of  one 
wary  Indian,  well  out  on  the  "bench,"  went 
up  a  shrill  whoop  of  warning.  Away  up  the 
the  grassy  incline,  from  over  the  ridge  and 
spurring  straight  for  the  wagon,  now  at  the 
head  of  the  ravine,  came  two  lithe  young 
horsemen,  riding  like  the  wind,  the  right 
hand  of  the  foremost  far  uplifted  in  the 
signal  known  the  plains  over — to  halt.  Be 
hind  these  two  came  an  orderly  trooper  full 
gallop.  Behind  these  three,  presently,  there 
popped  into  view  a  score  of  slouch-hatted, 
blue  -  bloused,  sturdy  dragoons,  and  with 
many  a  screech  of  wrath  and  disgust,  away 
218 


TO    THE    FRONT 

went  the  last  of  the  Sioux,  scooting  for  the 
shelter  of  the  creek  bank  beyond.  Shoot 
they  longed  to,  yet  dare  not.  The  word  had 
not  yet  gone  forth.  The  medicine-men  still 
said  nay.  The  time  was  not  yet  ripe.  A 
few  days  more  must  they  suffer  until  Si 
Tanka  and  his  braves  were  met,  until,  in 
overwhelming  force,  they  could  turn  on  the 
scattered  and  helpless  settlers.  That  was 
easier  warfare  than  fighting  soldiers,  and 
counted  for  just  as  much  in  scalps  and  glory. 
Away  they  went  to  the  cotton-wood  bot 
tom,  and  one  wellnigh  exhausted,  thorough 
ly  demoralized  white  man  collapsed  on  the 
driver's  seat,  and  four  sweating,  staggering 
horses  pulled  up,  panting  and  blowing,  and 
the  score  of  blue-coated  riders  came  thunder 
ing  on,  to  rein  up  in  triumph  around  a  silent 
but  obviously  excited  brace  of  lieutenants, 
one  of  whom  simply  pointed  into  the  depths 
of  the  wagon  body.  From  under  a  lot  of 
dingy  camp  equipage  peeped  out  three  or 
four  little  boxes  the  soldiery  knew  at  sight. 
Sergeant  Drum  spurred  alongside  and  whisked 
off  what  was  left  of  the  cover,  and  a  dirty 
219 


TO    THE    FRONT 

blanket  or  two,  and  there  was  a  larger  box, 
half  filled  with  magazine  rifles.  There  were 
ten  boxes  of  Winchester  cartridges,  one 
thousand  to  the  box.  There  was  the  secret 
of  the  "  hunter's  camp."  They  had  been 
selling  arms  to  the  Sioux. 

"Good  find,  that,  Geordie,"  grinned  Con- 
nell,  as  his  comrade  sat  pencilling  a  brief 
despatch  to  the  major,  while  three  of  the 
men,  with  liberal  sprinklings  from  their  can 
teens  and  brisk  fanning  with  their  hats,  were 
striving  to  revive  the  collapsed  wagoner. 

"I  need  his  story,"  said  our  plains- wise 
Pops.  "Pull  him  to,  if  possible,"  and  then 
went  on  with  his  writing. 

"SOUTH  FORK,  WHITE  RIVER, 

"  October  —  '90,  9  A.M. 
"Lieutenant  H.  H.  Willard,  Adjutant  Detachment 

— th  Cavalry. 

"SiR, — I  have  to  report  that  we  have  just  inter 
cepted  a  small  party  of  Sioux  driving  off  a  four- 
horse   wagon,   which  contains  eleven   Henry   and 
Winchester  rifles  and  at  least  ten  thousand  rounds 
of  ball  cartridges.     This  is  probably  the   'outfit' 
of  the  fugitives  who  reached  bivouac  this  morning, 
reporting  it  burned  and  their  comrades  killed. 
"One  of  the  latter,   at  least,  is  alive,   but  we 
220 


TO    THE    FRONT 

found  him  unconscious,  although  unharmed.  He 
was  driving  the  wagon.  The  Indians  scattered, 
but  are  now  assembling  in  the  cotton- woods  a  mile 
distant.  More  seem  coming  to  join  them.  If 
attacked,  we  will  hold  out;  but  I  wish  to  push  on 
and  ascertain  what  befell  the  others.  We  cannot, 
however,  leave  the  wagon,  nor  have  I  force  enough 
to  leave  a  guard. 

"Very  respectfully, 

"G.  M.  GRAHAM, 
"Second  Lieutenant  — th  Cavalry, 
1 '  Commanding  detachment. ' ' 

Then  came  a  significant  P.  S.,  at  sight  of 
which,  little  over  an  hour  later,  Major  Berry's 
eyes  snapped,  and  so  did  his  speech. 

" Bring  those  two  scoundrels  here!"  said 
he,  and  a  hangdog  -  looking  pair  they  were 
when  presently  lined  up  before  the  bearded 
commander,  while  no  less  a  personage  than 
Captain  Garrett,  at  the  head  of  forty  troopers, 
was  setting  forth  on  the  trail  of  his  much- 
envied  subaltern,  to  relieve  him,  if  surround 
ed  and  attacked  by  the  Sioux;  to  relieve 
him,  in  any  event,  of  the  care  of  the  wagon, 
but  under  no  circumstances  to  relieve  him  of 
his  command  or  duties.  Unless  menaced  by 
strong  parties  of  the  Sioux,  Mr.  Graham  was 

221 


TO    THE    FRONT 

to  go  ahead  with  a  dozen  additional  men,  car 
ry  out  his  orders,  and  Captain  Garrett  with 
the  rest  should  bring  that  wagon  to  camp. 

Then  with  Geordie's  report  and  postscript 
in  hand,  the  major  stood  glowering  at  the 
fugitives  of  the  morning,  now  most  ruefully 
yet  furtively  studying  his  face.  They  sus 
pected  something  amiss  when  warned  awhile 
before  that  they  were  not  to  try  to  ride  off. 
They  knew  there  was  mischief  to  pay  now. 

"You  two  sku  —  specimens,"  began  the 
major,  ominously,  "told  me  you  were  only 
accidentally  on  the  Sioux  reservation.  You 
swore  you  were  simply  out  hunting  antelope." 

"That's  God's  truth,  major,"  whined  the 
taller  of  the  two,  though  the  other  seemed 
ready  to  parley  and  plead. 

"That's  an  infernal  lie!"  was  the  answer. 
"You  told  me  the  Sioux  'jumped'  your 
camp,  killed  your  partner,  and  burned  your 
wagon."  And  with  menace  in  his  burning 
eyes  the  veteran  officer  paused  for  a  reply. 

"  'Fore  God,  major,  that's  how  it  looked  to 
us.  'Course  it  was  pitch-dark — " 

"Pitch-dark — in  bright   moonlight!     This 

222 


TO    THE    FRONT 

is  worse,  and  more  of  it.  You're  a  pair  of 
black-hearted  villains!  You  went  there  de 
liberately.  You  went  with  a  wagon-load  of 
arms  and  ammunition  to  sell  to  Sioux  Ind 
ians  just  bound  for  the  war-path.  You'd 
swing  for  that  if  there  was  any  law  in  the 
land,  but  swing  you  shall — anyhow!" 

"  You  dassn't  touch  us!"  burst  in  the  lead 
er,  sudden  spirit  and  defiance  in  his  tone, 
well  knowing  how  powerless  were  the  mili 
tary  in  face  of  civil  law.  "We're  no  poor 
devils  of  dog-robbers.  We  demand  protec 
tion  and  a  fair  trial — a  jury  of  our  peers ;  that 
means  no  hide-bound  gang  of  soldiers.  You 
can't  prove  we  sold  so  much  as  a  shot,  an' 
you  know  it,  an'  you're  only  trying  to  bluff." 

"That's  enough,  you!"  was  the  startling 
answer.  "  Sergeant  of  the  guard,  shoot  these 
men  like  dogs  if  they  attempt  to  escape.  We 
sha'n't  waste  time  trying  to  prove  you  sold 
arms.  What  we  can  prove,  and  will  prove, 
and  by  your  own  man,  too,  and  hang  you 
high  as  Haman  for  it,  is  that  Pete  Gamble, 
deputy  sheriff,  caught  you  at  your  devilish 
work,  and  you  shot  him  dead  from  ambush!" 
223 


XVII 

THE    WAR-DANCE    AND    THE    CHARGE 

WITH  two  days'  cooked  rations  in  their 
saddle-bags  now,  with  a  line  of  hearty 
appreciation  from  Major  Berry  and  renewed 
instructions  to  go  ahead,  with  a  dozen  more 
men  than  he  had  at  the  start,  and  the  best 
wishes  of  his  temporary  commander,  Geordie 
Graham  had  pushed  on  again  northeastward 
down  the  right  bank  of  the  Fork.  Waiting 
until  the  party  was  fairly  out  of  sight  over 
the  far-distant  "  divide,"  and  watching  mean 
time  the  movements  of  the  still  remaining 
Indians  in  the  timber,  Captain  Garrett  final 
ly  put  his  puny  command  in  march  for  the 
Mini  Chaduza,  bringing  the  wagon  and  the 
now  semi -restored  charioteer  along.  Five 
of  Gunnison's  pack-mules,  sent  on  with  the 
troop,  had  so  lightened  the  wagon  of  its  load 
224 


TO    THE    FRONT 

that  the  lately  abused  horses,  given  a  good 
feed  of  oats  and  a  swallow  of  water,  were  able 
to  trundle  it  lightly  along.  With  another 
day  it  was  started  under  escort  for  Niobrara, 
its  late  owners,  cursing  their  fate,  unwilling 
passengers  inside. 

It  was  late  afternoon  when  the  two  halves 
of  "F"  Troop  lost  sight  of  each  other,  the 
captain  going,  grumbling,  back  to  the  main 
body  with  a  much  disappointed  command; 
the  subaltern  riding  swiftly  away  down  the 
widening  valley,  with  an  exultant  platoon 
at  his  back,  all  hands  rejoicing  that  theirs 
was  the  first  capture  of  the  campaign. 
Parallel  with  them,  afar  across  the  stream, 
darting  from  cover  to  cover  and  keeping 
vigilant  watch,  rode  half  a  dozen  redskins. 
Most  of  their  brethren,  by  this  time,  were 
far  away  toward  Eagle's  Nest,  in  quest  of  the 
main  body.  These  few  were  charged  with 
the  duty  of  keeping  track  of  the  little  troop, 
in  order  to  be  able  to  report  exactly  the 
direction  in  which  it  was  going  and  that  no 
pursuit  was  intended.  This  definitely  set 
tled,  they,  too,  galloped  away,  and  the  val- 
225 


TO    THE    FRONT 

ley,  so  far  as  Geordie  could  judge,  was  now 
free  of  red  riders. 

The  sun  was  low  in  the  west.  The  wagon- 
tracks  still  led  on.  The  night  was  near  at 
hand,  and  the  troopers  in  advance  had  seen 
no  sign  of  a  camp.  Ten  miles,  at  least,  had 
they  marched,  and,  avoiding  a  deep  westward 
bend  of  the  stream,  the  trail  now  led  them 
over  a  low  ridge,  from  whose  crest  the  scouts 
signalled,  "Nothing  in  sight." 

Yet,  a  few  minutes  later,  Graham  and 
Connell,  dismounting  there  the  better  to 
scour  the  country  with  their  glasses,  were  seen 
by  the  main  body  to  spring  to  their  feet  and 
then  to  saddle,  Graham  facing  toward  them 
and  with  his  hat  signalling,  "  Change  direction 
half  left,"  whereat  Sergeant  Drum,  riding 
steadily  along  perhaps  four  hundred  yards 
behind  his  young  commander,  simply  turned 
his  horse's  head  in  the  direction  indicated, 
left  the  wagon-track,  and  silently  his  com 
rades  followed.  "They've  found  it,"  said 
Drum,  and  found  it  they  had. 

Though  the  wheel-marks  still  held  to  the 
northward,  and  the  three  troopers  far  in  the 
226 


TO    THE   FRONT 

lead  had  seen  nothing  as  yet  worthy  of  special 
report,  the  strong  lenses  of  the  signal-glass 
had  told  their  own  story. 

"Look  yonder,  Connell,  in  that  clump  of 
cotton-woods  beyond  the  low  point,"  were 
Graham's  words  as  he  sprang  to  his  feet. 
"See  those  black  things  in  the  timber? 
They're  buzzards!" 

Five  minutes  later  the  corporal,  too,  was 
signalling,  he  and  his  men  at  a  halt.  They, 
too,  had  made  discoveries:  the  track,  as  it 
later  developed,  of  two  shod  horses  pursued 
by  shoeless  Indian  ponies.  Southeastward 
this  trail  went  up  a  long,  shallow  ravine,  then 
veered  round  to  the  south.  It  told  of  fugi 
tives  and,  for  a  time,  of  pursuers.  Ten  min 
utes  after  the  first  discovery,  down  in  the 
sandy  bottom  and  close  to  the  stream,  the 
officers  caught  sight  of  a  brace  of  prairie 
wolves,  skulking  away  from  the  timber, 
among  the  branches  of  which  some  grewsome 
birds  were  flapping  and  fluttering,  while  two 
or  three  sailed  slowly  overhead.  Presently 
the  riders  came  in  view  of  a  little  scooped-out 
shelter  where  the  sand  was  all  torn  by  hoofs, 
227 


TO    THE    FRONT 

and  herein  lay  the  poor  remains  that  served 
as  confirmation  of  the  driver's  story — all  that 
was  left,  as  was  soon  determined,  of  poor 
Gamble,  one  of  the  most  feared  and  fearless 
men  of  the  Western  frontier. 

Shot  twice,  and  from  behind,  he  had  man 
aged  to  gallop  a  few  hundred  yards  up 
stream,  and  then,  weak  from  loss  of  blood,  had 
toppled  out  of  saddle,  crawled  to  this  hollow, 
and  presently  died.  Half  a  mile  farther  down 
stream  the  camp  site  was  found,  hoof  and 
moccasin  tracks  in  myriads  about  it,  camp- 
kettles  and  debris  still  scattered  around, 
empty  cans,  sacks,  and  boxes  flung  at  the 
edge  of  the  stream.  Here,  evidently,  the 
traders  had  spent  two  or  three  days,  and  here, 
there,  and  everywhere  were  fragments  of 
pasteboard  cartridge-cases.  A  thriving  in 
dustry,  this,  until  suddenly  swooped  upon  by 
Gamble,  who  paid  for  his  discovery  with  his 
life.  Here,  then,  was  closed  one  chapter  of  the 
hunters'  tale.  But  what  had  become  of  their 
partner?  What  had  broken  up  their  camp 
and  driven  them,  terror-stricken,  from  the 
reservation  ? 

228 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Not  until  the  dawning  of  another  day  was 
this  fully  determined.  Meanwhile  there  came 
new  complications — a  strange  and  stirring 
adventure  of  their  own. 

Finding  fair  grass  on  the  " bench"  a  few 
rods  farther  down  the  stream,  Geordie  had 
chosen  a  site  for  the  bivouac,  and  disposed 
his  little  force  for  the  night.  While  there 
had  been  as  yet  no  overt  act  of  hostility  on 
the  part  of  the  Sioux,  and  while  all  the  Ind 
ians  taking  part  in  the  affair  of  the  morning 
had  now,  apparently,  ridden  off  to  join  the 
renegade  band,  and  were  presumably  far  to 
the  northwest,  no  chances  could  be  taken. 
The  horses,  after  two  hours'  grazing,  were 
led  into  the  timber  and  hoppled.  The  sen 
tries  were  posted  well  out.  The  little  camp- 
fires  had  been  screened  under  the  bank,  and 
full  half  the  command  had  rolled  in  their 
blankets  and  settled  to  sleep.  When  the 
moon  came  peering  up  over  the  distant 
eastward  heights,  Geordie  and  Connell,  chat 
ting  in  low  tones  under  a  sheltering  cotton- 
wood,  were  suddenly  summoned  by  a  trooper 
coming  in  on  the  run  from  the  outpost  below, 
229 


TO    THE    FRONT 

a  mile  at  least  from  where  they  had  buried 
poor  Gamble.  "Indians,  sir,"  said  he,  "and 
lots  of  'em,  coming  up  the  valley  on  the  other 
bank." 

"Douse  your  fires,  there!"  was  the  first 
order.  "Look  well  to  your  horses,  sergeant. 
Stay  here  in  charge.  I'll  send  word  what 
to  do." 

Then,  with  eager  stride,  Geordie  hurried 
away  after  the  messenger,  Connell  close  at  his 
heels.  Two  hundred  yards  they  followed, 
winding  along  under  the  bank,  and  presently 
came  to  a  sharp  bend,  beyond  which  and 
across  the  stream  the  prairie  lay  open  and 
undulating  for  many  a  league,  the  only 
obstruction  to  the  view  being  a  little  grove 
of  cotton-woods  on  the  opposite  shore  and 
possibly  half  a  mile  away,  and  that  little 
grove  and  the  level  bench  about  it  were  alive 
with  Indians  and  Indian  ponies,  the  former 
at  least  in  high  state  of  excitement. 

Kneeling   behind   the   trunk   of   a  fallen 

cotton -wood,    two    troopers   were   intently 

studying  the  situation.     "They  came  riding 

down  from  over  yonder  to  the  northeast, 

230 


TO    THE    FRONT 

sir,"  said  one  of  them,  a  corporal,  making 
room  for  his  lieutenant.  "  There  must  have 
been  as  many  as  a  hundred  all  told,  with 
others  trailing  behind.  There's  going  to  be 
a  pow-wow  of  some  kind.  They've  unsad 
dled  and  turned  the  ponies  out,  and  some 
feller's  shoutin'  and  singin' — you  can  hear 
him  now,  sir." 

Hear  him !  As  he  warmed  up  to  his  speech, 
incantation,  or  whatever  it  was,  the  speaker 
could  have  been  heard  distinctly  a  long  mile 
away,  and  all  the  bivouac  up-stream,  not 
already  sound  asleep,  sat  up  to  listen.  War- 
chief  or  medicine-man,  he  had  a  voice  that 
dinned  upon  the  ear  of  night  and  dominated 
all  other  sounds,  from  guttural  grunt  of  as 
sent  to  frantic  yell  of  applause,  as  the  roar 
of  Niagara  in  the  Cave  of  the  Winds  drowns 
the  futile  babble  of  the  guides.  Once  in 
early  boyhood  Geordie  had  heard  an  Indian 
orator  of  whom  his  father  and  fellow-officers 
spoke  ever  in  honor  and  esteem — a  chief 
whose  people  wellnigh  worshipped  him  — 
"  Rolling-Thunder-in-the-Mountains,"  they 
called  him  ("Hin-Mato-Iya-Latkit,"  in  their 

16  231 


TO    THE    FRONT 

weird  dialect).  And  as  George  and  Connell 
knelt  here  now,  listening  to  this  deep,  rever 
berant  voice,  thundering  from  bluff  to  bluff 
across  the  mile-wide  valley,  the  name  and 
fame  of  old  Chief  Joseph,  whom  the  whites 
had  so  misunderstood  and  wronged,  came 
back  to  the  young  commander  with  redoubled 
force. 

But  no  such  chief  as  Joseph  was  this  who, 
standing  in  the  leaping  firelight,  high  among 
the  red  warriors  about  him,  was  lashing 
them  to  frenzy  with  his  resounding  words. 
No  interpreter  crouched  with  the  little  party 
at  the  point;  none  was  needed  to  tell  them 
that  he  was  preaching  of  battle,  blood,  and 
vengeance.  From  time  to  time  the  wail  of 
women  could  be  heard,  wild  as  the  scream 
of  the  panther,  and,  as  one  sign  led  to  an 
other,  it  dawned  upon  Geordie  and  the  vet 
eran  trooper  by  his  side  that  some  brave  of 
the  band  had  recently  been  done  to  death  by 
foul  means  or  treachery,  that  now  the  tribe 
was  being  roused  to  a  pitch  of  fury,  to  a  mad 
thirst  for  vengeance;  and  even  before  the 
red  orator  had  finished  his  harangue  the 
232 


TO    THE    FRONT 

war-drum  began  its  fevered  throb,  the  war 
riors,  brandishing  knife,  club,  hatchet,  or  gun, 
sprang  half  stripped  into  the  swift-moving 
circle,  and  with  shrill  yells  and  weird  contor 
tions  started  the  shuffling,  squirming,  snake- 
like  evolutions  of  the  war-dance.  Faster, 
wilder  went  the  drumbeats;  fiercer,  madder 
went  the  dance;  and,  unable  to  resist  the 
impulse,  Graham  and  Connell,  secure  in  the 
belief  that  the  Indians  were  utterly  engrossed, 
crept  cautiously  onward  and  outward,  with 
the  corporal  at  their  back,  determined  to  see 
what  they  could  of  this  savage  and  appalling 
ceremony. 

Half  -  way  to  the  scene  had  they  crept 
when  the  shrill  wailing  of  the  squaws  gave 
way  to  shriller  screams,  to  almost  maniac 
laughter.  The  orator  had  ceased  his  incan 
tations.  The  wild  drummers  stopped  their 
pounding.  The  warriors,  as  though  with 
one  accord,  clustered  about  the  fire  in  fas 
cination,  and  for  the  moment  all  save  the 
squaws  were  stilled,  and  the  crouching 
watchers,  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  looked 
blankly  into  each  other's  faces  for  explana- 
233 


TO    THE    FRONT 

tion.  "  What  on  earth  are  they  up  to  now?" 
whispered  Connell. 

The  answer  came  within  the  minute:  a 
sound  sweeter  to  savage  ears  than  love-lay 
of  the  maidens,  than  war-song  of  the  braves, 
than  even  the  wild,  triumphant  chorus  of 
the  scalp -dance;  a  sound  that  suddenly 
rose  for  a  moment  above  the  clamor  of  the 
squaws,  and  then  was  answered  and  over 
whelmed  and  drowned  in  mad,  exultant, 
even  fiendish,  yells  of  delight  —  it  was  the 
scream  of  a  strong  man  in  awful  agony. 

"My  God!"  cried  the  corporal.  "They've 
got  some  poor  devil  there,  torturing,  burning 
him  to  death!" 

"To  the  horses!  Come  on,  Con!"  was  the 
instant  answer.  And  the  three  went  bounding 
back  along  the  bank,  pursued  and  spurred 
by  the  savage  shouting  from  below,  but,  as 
God  so  willed  it,  without  so  much  as  a  glance. 
Over  the  lair  of  the  picket  they  flew,  with 
only  the  orders  "Come  on!"  Away  over  the 
elastic  "bench"  they  dashed,  hot -foot  for 
the  bivouac,  and  Drum,  the  veteran,  saw 
them  coming  like  the  wind,  and  read  their 
234 


TO    THE    FRONT 

tale  and  the  instant  need.  "Saddle  up!"  he 
shouted, while  the  group  was  still  afar.  * '  Jump 
for  it,  men !  There's  not  a  second  to  lose !" 

Up  from  their  blankets  sprang  the  few 
sleepers.  In  from  their  stations  scurried 
the  outlying  sentries.  Rattle  went  the  bits 
between  the  teeth  of  the  excited  chargers. 
Slap  went  the  saddles  on  the  broad,  glossy 
backs.  There  was  hurry  and  rush  and  swift 
leaping  for  arms,  the  snap  of  cinchas,  the 
snorting  of  steeds,  yet  not  a  word  was  spoken 
until  the  low  order  to  lead  into  line;  and 
straightway  old  Drum  marshalled  his  men, 
silent,  yet  with  hearts  beating  like  hammers, 
and  then  down  their  front  rode  their  youth 
ful  lieutenant,  a  stranger  to  all  but  a  month 
agone,  yet  now  they  lived  on  his  slightest 
word.  Oh,  what  thoughts — what  thoughts 
of  mother  and  home,  and  the  brave  old  days 
of  boyhood  and  the  Point,  had  been  winging 
through  his  brain  during  the  long  hours  of 
the  day!  But  now — now  there  was  no  time 
for  thought !  There  was  time  only  for  action ; 
for  a  fellow-man  lay  in  deadly  peril,  in  dread 
ful  torment,  only  a  short  mile  away. 
235 


TO    THE    FRONT 

"  Not  a  sound — not  a  shot,  men,"  he  order 
ed,  as  the  quivering  line  reined  up  before  him. 
"  Follow  our  lead,  stampede  the  ponies,  and 
charge  through  the  crowd;  then  rally  quick 
as  you  can." 

Splash !  drove  the  leaders  into  the  shallows. 
Breast  deep,  foaming,  they  spurred  through 
the  stream,  the  troop  plunging  after,  with 
carbines  slung  over  their  shoulders.  Out  on 
the  opposite  bank  and  up  to  the  "bench" 
they  swarmed,  then  veered  away  northward 
over  the  resounding  level,  Geordie  and  Con- 
nell,  classmates  and  chums,  bounding  away 
in  advance.  No  danger  of  Indian  eyes  or 
ears,  no  dread  of  hindering  shot  or  ambush. 
When  the  pale-face  writhes  at  the  torture 
stake,  even  Indian  vedette  forgets  his  trade 
for  the  lust  of  such  luxury  as  witnessing  that. 
Up  into  line  with  the  leading  four  galloped 
the  chargers  in  rear.  On  towrard  the  leaping 
flames  in  the  grove  led  those  lithe  young 
riders  ahead.  Mad  with  excitement,  some 
nervous  new  horses  snatched  at  their  bits 
and  burst  from  the  line,  and  Geordie,  glancing 
back,  saw  them  gaining  in  spite  of  restraining 
236 


TO    THE    FRONT 

hand.  What  mattered  it,  anyhow?  Every 
second  was  precious.  The  ground  was  open, 
the  herded  ponies  less  than  half  a  mile  for 
ward,  and  already  alarmed.  "Let  'em  go!" 
he  shouted,  with  a  wave  of  the  revolver  over 
his  head.  "  Straight  through  the  herd,  men. 
Ch-a-a-a-rge  /" 

Then  up  went  a  cheer  that  rang  over  the 
valley,  shrill  above  the  thunder  of  hoofs,  the 
shriek  and  scream  of  terrified  squaws,  the 
shouts  of  astonished  braves.  Away  like  the 
wind  went  the  streaming  swarm  of  ponies,  in 
mad  flight  for  the  north !  Away  like  scatter 
brained  rabbits,  darting  hither  and  thither 
in  the  firelight,  rushing  madly  to  shelter, 
leaping  from  the  "bench"  to  the  sandy 
bottom  below,  scurrying  in  wild  panic  any 
where,  everywhere,  went  warriors,  women,  and 
children ;  for,  close  on  the  heels  of  the  van 
ishing  herd  came  unknown  numbers  of  blue- 
coated,  brave  -  hearted,  tumultuous  riders, 
tearing  through  camp  like  a  human  tornado, 
turning  the  scene  of  the  late  revel  into  a 
turmoil  of  woe.  Vain  the  few  shots  aimed  in 
haste  and  excitement.  Vain  the  rallying 
237 


TO    THE    FRONT 

cry  of  a  fighting  chief.  A  blow  from  the  butt 
of  Ned  ConneH's  revolver  sprawled  him  head 
long  over  a  prostrate  form — a  white  man 
"staked  out"  in  front  of  the  fire,  swooning 
from  mingled  misery,  weakness,  and  joy. 

It  was  Pearson,  the  missing  "partner," 
captured  alive  by  the  Sioux,  doomed  to  die 
by  slow  torture,  in  revenge  for  a  young 
warrior  shot  down  by  the  gun-traders  in  a 
senseless  squabble  two  nights  before. 

And  the  troop  had  saved  him  and  his 
fellow-captive,  the  cook,  without  so  much  as 
firing  a  shot. 


XVIII 

BATTLE    AND    VICTORY 

ATD  this  was  the  story  that  went  on  the 
heels  of  the  escort  convoying  the  gun- 
traders  in  to  the  fort,  and  much  did  Major 
Berry  relish  the  composition  of  that  report. 
It  had  long  been  the  claim  of  himself  and  his 
comrades  that  white  men  were  encouraged 
to  enter  the  reservation  with  arms  and 
cartridges,  and  that  it  was  easy  for  the  Sioux 
to  lure  their  police,  or  to  mislead  the  sheriff, 
away  from  the  point  where  these  unprinci 
pled  smugglers  crossed  the  line. 

Now,  infuriated  at  the  cowardice  and 
treachery  of  two  of  their  number,  Pearson, 
the  leader,  and  Bent,  the  wagoner,  had  made 
a  clean  breast  of  the  business.  They  had 
driven  hard  bargains,  had  laid  in  good  stores 
of  beaver,  wolf,  and  deer  skins,  and  no  little 
cash.  Then  Little  Crow  came,  quarrelled 
239 


TO    THE    FRONT 

over  an  obvious  cheat,  called  one  partner  a 
liar,  was  struck,  abused,  and  thrown  out. 
He  galloped  away  and  came  back  with  Gam 
ble,  a  man  they  dare  not  let  live,  once  having 
learned  their  secret.  Both  Little  Crow  and 
he  were  treacherously  shot  by  the  partners 
as  they  were  riding  to  warn  George  Sword 
and  his  police.  Then  came  the  swift  ven 
geance  of  the  Sioux,  the  flight  of  Hurley  and 
Gross,  leaving  their  unwary  comrades  to  an 
awful  fate.  While  one  party  of  Indians 
made  way  with  the  wagon,  in  hopes  of  run 
ning  it — horses,  contents,  and  all — to  the  camp 
of  Si  Tanka,  another  party,  the  immediate 
relatives  and  friends  of  Little  Crow,  rode  off 
with  the  two  captives  to  the  village  where 
Little  Crow  lay  dying,  and  finally,  fearing  in 
terruption  there,  came  back  to  the  valley  by 
night  for  the  wildest,  most  delirious  orgy 
known  to  Indian  tradition — the  slow  doing  to 
death  of  captured  enemy  by  ingenious  and 
horrible  torture. 

And  this  was  the  indescribable  ceremony 
nipped  in  the  bud  by  our  young  lieutenant 
and   his   twoscore    men,    to   whose    energy, 
240 


TO    THE    FRONT 

courage,  and  skill  Major  Berry  gave  all  credit, 
though  Garrett  claimed  it  "in  the  name  of 
my  troop." 

All  night  had  they  faced  a  furious  and 
clamorous  band — chiefs,  warriors,  and  women 
—  shouting  denunciation,  demanding  their 
prey,  and  threatening  attack  in  tremendous 
force.  But  Geordie  had  posted  his  men  for 
battle,  hidden  the  recaptured  under  the  bank, 
and  dared  the  whole  band  to  come  on  and 
get  them,  if  they  thought  it  advisable,  which, 
it  seems,  they  did  not.  With  his  patients  on 
Indian  travois  (" borrowed,"  ponies  and  all, 
perhaps  without  ceremony,  from  the  supply 
on  the  spot),  Graham  slowly  retraced  his 
steps  the  following  morning,  and  was  met 
half  -  way  in  by  the  squadron  in  force,  the 
heartiest  kind  of  a  welcome,  and  news  that 
thrilled  through  his  veins  like  the  sound  of 
the  charge. 

"  The  — th  and  your  own  troop  are  camped 
south  of  the  line,  Mr.  Graham.  I  have  or 
ders  for  you  to  go  in  to-morrow." 

Just  so  soon,  therefore,  as  he  could  turn 
over  his  patients  to  the  care  of  the  surgeon, 
241 


TO    THE    FRONT 

write  his  brief  report  of  the  scout,  and  say 
good-bye  and  a  few  words  of  thanks  to 
Sergeant  Drum  and  his  fellows,  who  longed 
to  tell  him  how  they  hated  to  let  him  go, 
and  after  hearty  handshakes  from  Berry 
and  his  brother  officers  (" Samson"  Stone 
taking  special  credit  to  himself  for  having, 
as  he  expressed  it,  "  put  Graham  and  Connell 
onto  the  time  of  their  lives"),  our  Geordie 
blushingly  bade  farewell  to  these  comrades 
of  a  strenuous  month,  and,  with  faithful 
Connell  at  his  side,  and  a  little  escort  at 
tending,  rode  away  down  to  the  Chaduza, 
to  report  to  the  general  commanding,  and 
then  go  on  to  his  own,  for  ominous  tales  had 
come  from  the  Bad  Lands.  There  was 
trouble  in  store  for  all. 

First,  however,  there  was  wonderful  wel 
come  for  him  at  Niobrara.  The  skies  had 
grown  wintry.  The  snow  patches  were  be 
ginning  to  dot  the  prairie,  but  the  camp- 
fires  burned  the  brighter,  and  men  clustered 
about  them  and  talked  of  the  "luck"  of  the 
new  lieutenant,  whom  the  general  himself 
alighted  from  his  escort  wagon  to  greet  and 
242 


TO    THE    FRONT 

to  question.  For  several  days  the  chums 
were  needed  at  the  fort,  where  both  prisoners 
and  witnesses  were  held,  but  the  case  against 
the  self-styled  hunters  was  so  overwhelming 
that  the  demand  for  their  stay  was  soon  at 
an  end,  and,  in  the  train  of  the  general,  they 
went  on  westward  to  the  winter  camp  of 
the  assembled  cavalry,  whither  "the  old 
regiment"  had  preceded  them,  and  there, 
one  dark  and  wintry  evening,  with  the  snow- 
flakes  sifting  down,  and  the  depths  of  a  dis 
tant  valley  all  dotted  with  tiny  blazes — the 
cook  fires  of  a  whole  brigade — they  were 
met  by  a  troop  of  cavalry  in  fur  caps  and 
gauntlets,  and  huge,  blanket-lined  overcoats 
— swarthy,  bearded  fellows,  with  service- 
stained  boots  and  trappings,  but  looking  fit 
for  the  hardest  kind  of  campaigning  and 
any  kind  of  a  fight.  It  swung  from  column 
into  line,  saluted  the  general  with  advanced 
carbines,  and  then,  wheeling  by  fours  to  right, 
trotted  briskly  away  with  the  little  cortege, 
and  presently  its  commander,  after  a  few 
words  with  the  general,  fell  back,  peering 
from  under  his  bushy  headpiece,  and  sung 
243 


TO    THE    FRONT 

out  in  cheery  tones  Geordie  had  not  heard 
for  many  a  day,  yet  knew' on  the  instant: 

"Ah,  there  you  are,  Mr.  Graham!  We 
have  a  horse  with  us  ready  for  you  now!" 
And  lo!  it  was  Captain  Lane,  with  his  own 
troop  ("  E  "  of  the  — th),  sent  out  to  lead  the 
general's  escort  into  camp.  Leaving  the 
companions  of  the  long,  jolting  ambulance 
ride,  Geordie  sprang  to  the  back  of  a  mettle 
some  bay,  led  forward  by  a  muffled-up 
trooper  who  steadied  the  young  officer's 
stirrup  before  turning  aside  to  remount, 
while  a  tall,  spare,  wiry-looking  sergeant  sat 
stiffly  in  saddle,  his  fur-covered  hand  at 
salute,  his  long  gray  mustache  and  stubbly 
beard  and  thin  hooked  nose  being  almost 
all  that  could  be  seen  of  the  face;  yet  the 
twinkle  in  his  waiting  captain's  eyes  and  a 
twitch  in  the  muscles  of  the  veteran's  lips 
set  Geordie  to  staring,  and  presently  out 
went  his  hand  and  up  went  his  glad  young 
voice : 

"  Nolan  !  Nolan  !  You  back  with  us 
again!" 

"Couldn't  keep  out  of  it,  sir,  when  we  got 
244 


TO    THE    FRONT 

word  that  the  old  troop  was  to  have  another 
Indian  campaign.  No  more  could  Toomey." 

And  lo!  it  was  his  friend  of  the  Big  Mogul 
now  again  bestriding  a  troop  horse,  detailed 
specially  to  meet  him!  And  Lane,  with  a 
wave  of  his  hand  and  a  laugh  that  was  good 
to  hear,  left  the  three  cronies  of  Silver  Run 
to  ride  in  together  while  he  galloped  on  to 
his  duties. 

"  But  the  mines,  Nolan,  and  your  position  ?' ' 
questioned  Geordie,  as  soon  as  the  greetings 
were  over  and  he  could  recover  from  his 
amaze. 

"The  mine  is  as  sound  as  a  government 
bond,  sir,  and  Shiner's  holding  down  my 
job  till  I  want  it  again;  and  Mr.  Anthony 
told  me  to  say  that  whenever  the  lieutenant 
got  tired  of  soldiering  to  come  back  with 
Toomey  and  take  his  old  trick  with  the 
shovel." 

And  so,  joyous  and  laughing,  the  three 
friends  of  old  rode  down  to  the  thronging 
camps  in  the  valley,  and  to  the  stern  duties 
that  so  soon  awaited  them. 

For  there  came  a  day  when  men's  faces 
245 


TO    THE    FRONT 

went  white  with  the  news  that  Sitting  Bull, 
the  great  chief  (Tatanka-iyo-Tanka),  had 
died  in  desperate  fight  with  the  police  sent 
to  arrest  him;  that  Si  Tanka  and  his  band, 
nabbed  by  "  Napa  Yahmni,"  had  most  un 
accountably  managed  later  to  elude  him, 
and  were  now  at  large,  raising  the  standard 
of  revolt,  summoning  all  the  wild  warriors 
far  and  near  to  join  forces  with  him.  And 
then,  indeed,  the  frontier  blazed  with  signal- 
fires  by  night  and  burning  ranches  by  day, 
and  there  came  a  week  of  hard  riding  for  the 
old  regiment,  and  of  sharp  campaigning  for 
all — a  week  in  which  at  last  the  wily  red 
chief  Si  Tanka  was  finally  surrounded  and, 
with  all  his  people  and  ponies,  herded  on 
down  through  the  Bad  Lands  to  the  breaks 
of  Wounded  Knee — fierce,  truculent,  de 
fiant.  For  long  months  he  had  braved  the 
4 'Great  Father"  himself,  refusing  to  submit 
to  any  authority;  but  the  sight  of  those 
long  columns  of  silent,  disciplined  "horse 
soldiers, "  squadrons  white  and  black,  some 
of  them  riding  along  with  wonderful  little 
field-guns  clinking  beside  them  on  wheels, 
246 


TO    THE    FRONT 

overawed    Si    Tanka's    followers    and    dis 
heartened  his  friends. 

There  came  a  day  when  he  had  to  submit, 
and  agree  to  surrender,  and  go  whither  orders 
might  send  him,  and  with  his  fierce  spirit 
crushed,  he  bowed  his  head  and  took  to  his 
lodge,  and  laid  him  down  in  his  robes,  sick, 
body  and  soul.  And  then  the  old  regiment 
marched  over  to  the  mission  to  guard  prison 
ers  and  property,  and  another  was  sent 
scouting  after  scattering  little  war  parties, 
and  Connell,  who  had  again  been  serving 
with  the  general,  got  word  to  Geordie  that 
orders  had  come  putting  an  end  to  his  "  holi 
day/'  and  calling  him  East  to  his  legitimate 
duty.  Could  Geordie  get  over  to  see  him, 
and  the  disarming  of  Big  Foot's  band,  on 
the  morrow? 

Graham  showed  the  missive  to  his  captain, 
and  Lane  took  it  to  the  colonel.  "Let 
Graham  go,"  said  the  latter.  "  There's  noth 
ing  to  be  done  here." 

And  so  it  happened  that  once  again  the 
two  chums  were  together,  and  this  time  on  a 
momentous  and  perilous  day. 
17  247 


TO    THE    FRONT 

They  saw  from  the  hill-side  the  scowling 
braves  of  Big  Foot,  led  forth  from  camp 
and  seated  on  the  ground,  shrouded  in  their 
blankets,  in  long,  curving  lines.  They  saw 
the  designated  troops  of  a  rival  regiment 
drawn  up  in  silent  array,  facing  the  sullen 
warriors.  They  saw  the  women  and  children 
of  the  latter  huddled  at  the  edge  of  the 
Indian  camp,  while  officers,  sergeants,  and 
soldiers  were  sent  searching  through  the 
frowzy  lodges  for  secreted  arms.  Through 
their  glasses  they  saw  the  old  medicine-man, 
in  the  centre  of  the  Indian  ranks,  glancing 
furtively,  savagely,  right  and  left,  his  lips 
moving  in  muttered  incantation,  while  the 
searchers  among  the  lodges  came  forth  from 
one  after  another,  baffled,  empty-handed, 
suspicious.  Why  had  not  some  one  sug 
gested  it  would  be  wise  to  search,  individually, 
each  brave  before  conducting  him  to  the 
line? 

"There's- going  to  be  trouble,  Con!"  cried 

Graham,  suddenly  dropping   his  field-glass. 

"Look!     There  goes  McCrea!"     And  surely 

enough,  at  that  very  instant,  as  though  he, 

248 


UP    WENT    TWO    LITTLE    PUFFS    OF    EARTH 


TO    THE    FRONT 

too,  had  noted  the  ominous  signs,  their 
elder  comrade  came  galloping  diagonally 
across  the  front,  heading  straight  for  the 
spot  where  stood  the  commander  of  the 
silent  little  battalion.  "  He's  going  to  warn 
them,"  answered  Connell.  "Let's  join 
him." 

And  just  as  he  spoke,  and  before  either 
could  turn  to  the  waiting  horses,  up  into  air 
went  the  hands  of  the  chanter,  up  went  two 
little  puffs  of  earth,  sand,  and  gravel  as  he 
tossed  them  on  high;  and  before  even  they 
could  come  sifting  and  showering  downward, 
up  in  a  flash  sprang  the  muttering  line, 
off  went  every  blanket,  and  out  leaped  a 
warrior,  armed  and  painted  for  battle. 
Suddenly  they  whirled  on  the  searchers  ad 
vancing  upon  them.  Crash  went  their  wild 
volley,  downing  both  friend  and  foe,  for 
the  first  shots  tore  straight  through  the 
huddle  of  women,  and  their  shrieks  fol 
lowed  swift  on  the  deadly  clamor  of  the 
guns. 

And  then  for  a  moment  there  was  dire 
confusion.  In  the  space  of  a  second,  it 
249 


TO    THE    FRONT 

seemed,  the  red  line  had  leaped  to  its  feet, 
then  dashed  through  the  smoke  of  its  volley, 
straight  for  the  cowering  forms  of  old  men, 
women,  and  children.  Another  second  and, 
sheltered  by  the  skirts  of  their  squaws,  the 
warriors  were  blazing  away  at  the  astonished 
soldiery.  "Good  God,  boys,  we  can't  fire 
on  women  and  children!"  shouted  one  brave 
young  sergeant.  "Down  on  your  faces! 
Down!"  And  "down"  was  his  last  word,  as 
down  on  his  bullet-riven  face  he  plunged, 
shot  dead  through  the  brain. 

Almost  at  the  same  moment  McCrea's 
galloping  steed  stumbled  heavily  forward 
and  rolled  stiffening  on  the  frozen  earth,  his 
gallant  rider  flung  headlong  beyond  him. 
Another  moment  and  Geordie  and  Connell, 
leaping  from  saddle,  had  run  to  his  aid,  even 
as  the  crash  of  a  volley,  at  the  word  of  com 
mand,  told  that  the  troopers  had  answered 
the  furious  challenge.  Another  moment 
still,  and  a  young  surgeon  sprang  to  the  re 
lief  of  the  signalling  officers;  and  then, 
leaving  their  senseless  friend  to  his  care,  all 
athrill  with  the  fury  of  battle,  Graham  and 
250 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Connell,  "  Badger"  and  "Coyote,"  whip 
ping  out  their  revolvers,  rushed  on  down  the 
slope  to  join  the  blue  line  just  springing  afoot 
to  the  charge. 

Of  the  moment  that  followed,  the  wild 
cheer  and  onward  dash,  the  race  over  blood 
stained  snow  -  patches,  the  stumble  over 
falling  forms  (some  friend,  some  foe),  the 
ripping  and  slashing  at  fire-spitting  lodges, 
in  which  some  of  the  band  had  sought  refuge, 
the  agonized  screaming  of  children,  the 
appalling  shrieks  of  the  squaws — of  all  this 
it  was  difficult  later  to  give  clear  account. 
Geordie  only  knew  that  he,  and  those  nearest 
him  in  the  rush  through  the  smoke,  lost 
many  a  shot  rather  than  risk  killing  fleeing 
women  and  babes,  spared  warriors  who 
would  never  spare  them,  for  down  went  first 
one  comrade,  down  went  another,  and  all 
on  a  sudden  something  bit,  stung,  and  tore 
through  his  thigh,  and  down  on  his  outflung 
arms,  with  Con  sobbing  over  him,  went 
Geordie  Montrose  Graham,  first  captain  the 
year  agone,  fireman  in  July,  and  now  junior 
lieutenant  of  Company  "E." 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Many  a  Christmas  holiday  was  spoiled 
that  winter  by  the  news  from  Wounded 
Knee.  "  Bud  "  Graham,  Columbia  freshman, 
spending  a  fortnight  with  father  and  mother 
at  the  Point,  had  gone  with  them  and  Colonel 
Hazzard  to  Grant  Hall  one  starlit  evening. 
Orders  were  to  be  published  to  the  corps  of 
cadets  at  supper,  and  the  commandant  wish 
ed  them  to  hear.  They  ascended  the  broad 
stone  steps,  Mrs.  Graham  on  the  arm  of  the 
colonel,  Mrs.  Hazzard  escorted  by  grim  "  Dr. 
Sawney,"  who  was  wondering  not  a  little  what 
might  be  coming.  Two  or  three  officers  from 
the  mess  joined  the  little  family  party,  and 
they  all  clustered  at  the  big  folding-doors — 
Bud  breathless  with  anticipation  and  ex 
citement.  The  cadet  corporal  of  the  guard 
saluted  at  sight  of  the  distinguished  arrivals, 
and,  at  a  sign  from  the  colonel,  held  open 
the  portal  on  one  side  so  that,  without  being 
seen,  the  visitors  could  distinctly  hear  what 
might  be  read  within. 

And  presently  it  came.  In  ringing  tones 
the  adjutant  ordered  attention.  The  chatter 
and  clamor  instantly  ceased.  Briefly  the 
252 


TO    THE    FRONT 

young  officer  rattled  off  the  details  for  the 
morrow,  and  then  announced: 

"  The  following  communication  is  publish 
ed  for  the  information  of  the  battalion  of 
cadets : 

"FIELD  HEADQUARTERS, 
"FORT  NIOBRARA,  NEB.,  December  — ,  1890. 
"COMMANDING  OFFICER,  — TH  CAVALRY, 

"In  the  Field,  near  Wounded  Knee. 
"SiR, — The  general  commanding  the  military 
division  directs  me  to  notify  you  of  the  return  of 
the  detachment  under  Major  Berry,  — d  Cavalry, 
after  a  thorough  scout  of  some  three  weeks'  dura 
tion,  resulting  in  the  breaking  up  and  scattering 
of  several  of  the  bands  of  'ghost- dancers/  and  the 
capture  of  at  least  one  large  party  now  being  sent 
under  escort  to  Pine  Ridge  Agency. 

"One  most  important  result  of  the  scout  was  the 
discovery  and  arrest  of  certain  white  men  engaged 
in  selling  arms  and  ammunition  to  the  Indians, 
the  capture  of  much  of  their  '  outfit,'  and  the  rescue, 
under  circumstances  of  imminent  peril,  of  two  of  the 
party  whom  the  Indians  were  in  the  very  act  of 
putting  to  death  by  torture. 

"The  entire  credit  for  this  exploit,  which  was 
conducted  with  excellent  judgment  and  most  com 
mendable  dash  and  daring,  is  given  by  Major 
Berry  to  Lieutenant  George  Montrose  Graham,  of 
your  regiment,  and  the  division  commander— 

253 


TO    THE    FRONT 

But  he  could  be  heard  no  further.  The 
iron  discipline  of  West  Point  was  powerless 
to  stem  the  torrent  of  cadet  enthusiasm  at 
this  public  mention  of  their  beloved  leader 
of  the  year  gone  by.  Up  sprang  the  entire 
corps,  and  the  rafters  rang  with  the  thunder 
of  their  cheers — a  thunder  that  seemed  to 
redouble  rather  than  dwindle  at  sight  of  the 
silver-haired  commandant,  smiling  in  through 
the  opening  door. 

And  from  such  a  scene  as  that,  with  stream 
ing  eyes  and  trembling  lips  and  a  heart  over 
flowing  with  pride,  joy,  gratitude,  and  the 
longing  to  throw  herself  upon  her  knees  and 
pour  out  her  very  soul  in  praise  and  thanks 
giving,  this  devoted  mother  was  summoned 
to  another. 

The  doctor  had  fled  away  from  the  bevy 
of  friends  who  had  hastened  to  congratulate 
and  shake  him  by  the  hand.  He  had  finally 
escaped  to  his  little  den,  trying  to  compose 
himself,  and  write  calmly  and  judiciously,  as 
became  a  father,  to  his  soldier  son.  Bud, 
nearly  wild  with  delight,  had  finally  been 
"fired,"  as  he  expressed  it,  from  Cadet 
254 


TO    THE    FRONT 

Frazier's  room  by  the  officer-in-charge,  and 
started  for  home  toward  half -past  ten  o'clock, 
when  in  front  of  the  officers'  mess  he  was 
suddenly  hailed  by  a  grave-faced  professor: 

"You're  needed  at  home,  Bud,"  and,  run 
ning,  he  found  Colonel  Hazzard  and  his 
father  at  the  library  door,  a  telegram  open 
in  the  latter's  trembling  hand. 

"Not  a  word  now,  son.  Just  read  this 
and  then — call  mither." 

With  paling  face  and  suddenly  swimming 
eyes,  Bud  read  the  dancing  words: 

"Severe  action.  Graham  wounded;  left  thigh. 
Serious,  but  doing  well.  Our  loss  heavy. 

"(Signed)  McCREA." 

And  so  they  got  the  first  news  of  the  bitter 
midwinter  battle  that  ended  the  days  of 
Big  Foot  and  so  many  of  his  band,  that  cost 
us  the  lives  of  so  many  gallant  officers  and 
men,  among  the  icy  flats  and  snow-patched 
ravines  along  the  Wounded  Knee. 

But  there  came  a  meeting  in  March  that 
brought  surcease  for  all  that  fond  mother's 
255 


TO    THE    FRONT 

sorrow.  There  came  an  evening  when  the 
battalion,  in  its  muffling  winter  garb  of  gray, 
went  bounding  up  the  broad  stone  steps  into 
the  old  mess-hall,  and,  stripping  off  caps  and 
overcoats,  quickly  settled  down  to  their 
hearty  supper,  for  the  days  were  longer,  the 
first  spring  drills  had  begun,  and  tremendous 
appetites  had  these  alert  young  fellows. 
The  clamor  and  chatter  began  on  the  instant 
— a  merry  riot  of  chaff  and  fun.  No  outly 
ing  picket  gave  warning  of  the  approach  of 
disturbers,  but  once  again  that  great-hearted 
commandant  had  planned  a  demonstration 
that  should  delight  a  mother's  soul.  Once 
again  he  was  leading  her  up  to  the  massive 
portal,  with  a  tall  youth  swinging  on  crutches 
beside  her,  and  a  joyous  little  party  in  her 
train.  Only  that  day  had  he  arrived — her 
Geordie — a  little  pallid  from  long  housing 
and  wearied  from  the  long  ride,  but  wonder 
fully  well  and  happy  otherwise,  and  assured 
that  a  few  weeks  more  would  see  him  strong 
as  ever.  Connell  had  met  him  at  Buffalo. 
Bud  was  up  from  New  York.  McCrea  had 
escorted  him  all  the  way  from  Chicago,  where 
256 


TO    THE    FRONT 

John  Bonner  would  have  held  him  for  a  week 
of  lionizing,  but  he  could  not  be  stopped  for 
an  hour.  Nolan  and  Toomey  had  ridden 
every  mile  to  the  railway  to  see  their  young 
leader  aboard,  but  over  the  meeting  with 
that  yearning  mother  there  was  none  on 
earth  to  spy.  Long  hours  she  kept  him  to 
herself,  but,  now  that  evening  had  come, 
she  yielded  him  to  the  colonel's  plead 
ing. 

"  It  is  for  their  sake,"  said  he,  and  for  their 
sake  even  Geordie  consented. 

And  so,  very  much  as  he  had  planned  on 
the  previous  occasion,  Colonel  Hazzard  led 
them  to  the  door  as  supper  was  near 
ly  over,  having  previously  notified  his 
officer  -  in  -  charge,  but  no  man  in  the 
corps  was  in  the  secret.  ''Whatever  hap 
pens,"  said  he,  "shall  be  entirely  sponta 


neous." 


For  a  moment  they  waited  until,  as  before, 
the  voice  of  the  adjutant  was  heard,  clear 
and  commanding,  above  the  clamor.  Then 
came  the  publications,  a  perfunctory  order  or 
two,  and  then  the  colonel  put  forth  a  hand, 
257 


TO    THE    FRONT 

pushed  open  the  door,  and  while  Mrs.  Gra 
ham  and  Bud,  trembling  with  excitement, 
clung  to  each  other's  arms,  and  the  rest  of 
the  group  instinctively  closed  about  them, 
Hazzard  turned  to  the  two  young  gradu 
ates — his  captains  of  the  year  gone  by, 
now  looking  not  a  little  white  and  by  no 
means  happy — and  signalled  "step  within," 
he  himself  close  following,  and  throwing 
wider  the  door  so  that  Mrs.  Graham  might 
see. 

As  the  big  half  swung  slowly  inward,  and 
the  two  crutches  were  planted  across  the 
threshold,  Connell  hung  back,  but  the 
colonel  would  not  so  have  it.  The  corporal 
of  the  guard,  surprised  at  the  intrusion, 
stepped  forward  to  check  the  strangers  with 
in  their  gates,  then  as  suddenly  halted,  his 
eyes  alight  with  instant  recognition  and  re 
joicing,  his  hand  springing  up  in  salute,  even 
as  the  cadet  officers  at  the  head  of  the  near 
est  tables  found  their  feet  in  instant  and 
irresistible  impulse.  Up,  too,  sprang  the 
first  captain,  at  the  opposite  side,  his  first 
thought  to  rebuke,  his  second,  at  sight  of  the 
258 


TO    THE    FRONT 

halted  trio,  to  shout  with  delight.  Before 
he  could  gather  his  wits  the  matter  was  set 
tled  for  him,  for  all.  The  adjutant,  amazed, 
dropped  his  paper  and  uplifted  his  eyes,  for 
his  voice  was  stilled  by  a  stentorian  shout 
from  an  inner  table  and  the  simultaneous 
rush  of  a  light-footed  fellow  who  almost 
swept  Pops  off  his  crutches  as  his  arms  flung 
about  him.  "Cyclone"  Holt,  a  big-lunged 
Kentuckian,  had  bounded  to  his  chair  with  a 
yell  of  "  Hurray!  '  Badger '  and  'KioteY  "  and 
all  order  was  gone  in  an  instant.  Up  as  one 
man  sprang  the  startled  battalion.  Had 
Holt  gone  mad  ?  Had  Frazier  a  fit  ?  For 
answer  came  cheers  from  those  nearest  the 
door,  cheers  that  spread  like  wildfire  from 
table  to  table,  and  all  in  a  second  every 
young  soldier  was  swinging  a  napkin  and 
shouting  like  mad— some  leaping  on  chairs, 
some  even  mounting  the  tables,  a  scene  such 
as  the  mess -hall  never  witnessed  before. 
Vain  the  effort  of  some  one  to  guide  the 
cheering  (they  had  not  then  learned  an 
academy  yell),  and  for  once  in  its  day  the 
corps  went  wild,  every  man  for  himself. 
259 


TO    THE    FRONT 

They  yelled  at  Geordie,  blushing  and  dis 
hevelled  from  Benny's  embrace.  They  yelled 
at  Connell,  standing  modestly  by,  with  his  set 
lips  twitching,  his  eyes  filling  fast.  They 
yelled  at  their  colonel,  now  smilingly  backing 
away.  They  yelled  for  three  minutes  without 
ever  a  stop,  until  some  fellow,  versed  in 
town-meeting  methods,  began  yelling  for 
"Speech!"  and  that  started  others,  and 
" Speech!"  was  the  word  ringing  all  over  the 
hall,  and  that  was  more  than  enough  to 
start  Geordie.  Speak  he  could  not  and  would 
not.  He  could  only  stand  smiling  and 
shaking  his  head,  until  he  saw  they  would 
not  be  denied ;  and  then,  at  last,  the  lad  who 
had  faced  and  downed  popular  prejudice  all 
through  his  cadet  life,  who  had  faced  foes 
at  the  Point  and  foes  on  the  plains — faced 
them  with  dauntless  front  and  determined 
will — who  had  stood  like  a  rock  at  the  front 
of  the  enemy,  trembled  now  like  a  leaf  in  the 
sight  of  his  friends,  and  so,  for  the  first 
time,  shrank  back  and  fled.  Just  as  on  the 
day  of  his  graduation,  our  Geordie  turned 
from  the  tumult  of  comrade  acclaim  and 
260 


TO    THE    FRONT 

sought  his  mother's  side.  Con  darted  after 
him,  and  the  big  door  closed  on  the  chums  of 
cadet  days,  on  the  "  Badger  "  and  "  Coyote  " 
— on  Connell  and  "Corporal  Pops." 


THE    END 


IETURN 


MAIN  CIRCULATION 


ALL  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  RECALL 
RENEW  BOOKS  BY  CALLING  642-3405 


DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


LIBRARY  USE  ONI 

Y 

MAY  2  6  1994 

CIRCULATION  DEF 

T. 

...  r.nn        UAV                   t£ 

94 

A;  ttr^     «u\i 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA   BERKELEY 


I 


LBRARIES 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


